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JAMES    BALDWIN 


NY  PUBLIC  LIBRARY     THE  BRANCH  LIBRARIES 


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\  Baldwin 
Story  of  Roland 


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THE  STORY  OF  ROLAND 


BY  JAMES  BALDWIN 

THE  SAMPO 

A  STORY  OF  THE  GOLDEN  AGI 
THE  STORY  OF  SIEGFRIED 
THE  STORY  OF  ROLAND 
HERO  TALES  TOLD  IN  SCHOOL 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


THE  ACCOLADE. 


HEROES  OF  THE  OLDEN   TIME 


THE 


STORY    OF    ROLAND 


BV 

JAMES    BALDWIN 


Illustrated  by  T(.  T$.  Ttircb 


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• 

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NEW   YORK 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


COPYRIGHT,  1883,  1888,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY 
JAMES  BALDWIN 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


All  rights  reserved.  No  part  of  this  book 
may  be  reproduced  in  any  form  without 
the  permission  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


FUcLIC  LJPRARYI 


Ai 

j.'LDEN  f  OuNu 

I*. 


THE    FORE    WORD. 


THE  fairyland  of  romance  is  not  far  removed  from 
the  more  sober  domains  of  history.  Indeed,  the  ter- 
ritory of  the  one  sometimes  overlaps  that  of  the  other ; 
and  the  boundary  line  between  them  is  often  dim  and 
ill-defined.  This  truth  is  illustrated  in  the  legends 
which  have  come  down  to  us  from  the  middle  ages. 
In  those  rude,  uncultured  times,  men  did  not  care 
greatly  to  sift  fact  from  fiction,  nor  to  pry  into  the 
likelihood  of  things.  No  matter  how  improbable  a 
atory  might  be,  if  it  were  pleasing  to  them,  they 
never  thought  of  questioning  its  truth.  Most  of  the 
earlier  legends  began  in  song :  they  were  sung  or  re- 
cited by  wandering  bards  or  minstrels  long  before  they 
were  written  down.  They  have  in  them  usually  some 
slender  thread  of  real  history,  so  covered  over  with 
traditions,  and  mixed  up  with  mysteries  and  marvels, 

Mi 


B 


The  Fare  Word. 


that  it  is  impossible  to  know  how  much  is  fact,  and 
how  much  is  fable.  We  read  them  chiefly  to  learn  how 
the  men  of  those  far-off  cloudy  days  thought  and  felt, 
what  they  believed,  and  with  what  kind  of  literature 
they  were  entertained  Yet  if  we  remove  the  dross 
and  impurities  which  obscure  the  fairer  and  nobler 
parts  of  these  legends,  and  adapt  them  to  our  own 
modes  of  thinking  and  expression,  we  shall  not  fail 
to  find  some  things  that  will  instruct,  and  many  that 
will  please. 

Jean  Bodel,  a  minstrel  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
wrote,  "There  are  but  three  subjects  which  interest 
men,  —  the  tales  of  France,  of  Britain,  and  of  Rome 
the  great;  and  to  these  subjects  there  is  nothing 
like.  The  tales  of  Britain l  are  so  light  and  pleas- 
ant ;  those  of  Rome  *  are  wise  and  of  teachful  sense ; 
those  of  France*  truly  every  day  of  greater  appear- 


ance," 


In  this  story  of  Roland  as  I  propose  telling  it,  I 
shall  introduce  you  to  some  of  the  most  pleasing  of 
those  M  tales  of  France."  The  poems  and  legends 

which  embody  them  were  written  in  various  languages, 

1  The  romances  of  King  Arthur.  2  The  Gesta  Romanorum. 

8  The  legends  of  Charlemagne. 


The  Fore  Word. 


and  at  widely  different  times ;  but  in  them  two  names* 
Charlemagne  and  Roland,  are  of  very  frequent  occur- 
rence. Charlemagne,  as  you  know,  was  a  real  histori- 
cal personage,  the  greatest  monarch  of  mediaeval  times, 
His  empire  included  France,  the  greater  part  of  Gear- 
many,  and  Italy ;  and  his  power  and  influence  were  felt 
all  over  the  Christian  world.  The  fame  of  his  achieve- 
ments in  war  was  heralded  and  sung  in  every  country 
of  Europe  ;  his  name  was  in  the  mouth  of  every  story- 
teller and  wandering  bard ;  and  it  finally  became  cus- 
tomary to  ascribe  all  the  heroic  deeds  and  wonderful 
events  of  three  centuries  to  the  time  of  Charlemagne. 
The  songs  and  stories  in  which  these  events  were 
related  were  dressed  up  with  every  kind  of  embellish- 
ment to  suit  the  circumstances  of  their  recital.  Wild 
myths  of  the  Pagan  ages,  legends  and  traditions  of  the 
Christian  Church,  superstitious  notions  of  magic  and 
witchcraft,  fantastic  stories  derived  from  the  Arabs 
of  Spain  and  the  East,  —  all  these  were  blended  in 
one  strange  mass,  and  grafted  upon  a  slender  core  of 
historical  truth.  The  result  was  a  curious  mixture 
of  fact  and  fiction,  of  the  real  and  the  marvellous,  of 
the  beautiful  and  the  impure,  of  Christian  devotion 
and  heathen  superstition.  And  it  was  thus  that  "  the 


vf  The  Fore  Ward. 

tales  of  France,"  which  we  may  term  the  legendary 
history  of  Charlemagne,  came  into  being. 

The  Charlemagne  of  romance  is  a  very  different  per- 
sonage from  the  Charlemagne  of  history  ;  and  the  tales 
which  cluster  around  the  name  of  that  monarch  must 
not  be  regarded  as  true  pictures  of  life  and  manners 
during  his  reign,  but  rather  as  illustrations  of  the  state 
of  society  at  the  various  times  of  their  composition. 
In  the  romances,  Charlemagne  is  represented  as  the 
patron  of  chivalry,  and  his  warriors  as  possessing  all 
the  knightly  virtues.  But  we  know,  that,  in  his  time, 
the  institution  of  chivalry  did  not  exist,  and  that  there 
were  no  knights.  In  the  tenth  century,  however,  when 
men  first  began  to  write  down  the  tales  of  France, 
chivalry  was  in  its  prime ;  and  it  was  but  natural  that 
the  poet  who  wrote  and  sang  for  feudal  chiefs  and 
lords  should  invest  his  heroes  with  knighthood,  and 
represent  Charlemagne  as  the  founder  of  the  order. 

Roland,  the  nephew  of  the  Charlemagne  of  romance, 
and  his  companion  in  all  great  enterprises,  is  unknown 
to  history.  Yet  he  is  the  typical  knight,  the  greatest 
hero  of  the  middle  ages.  His  story,  as  I  shall  tell  it 
you,  is  not  a  mere  transcript  of  the  old  romances.  The 
main  incidents  have  been  derived  from  a  great  variety 


The  Fore  Word.  vll 

of  sources,  while  the  arrangement  and  the  connecting 
parts  are  of  my  own  invention.  I  have  culled  the  story 
from  the  song-writers  and  poets  of  five  centuries  and 
of  as  many  languages.  Sometimes  I  have  adhered 
closely  to  the  matter  and  spirit,  and  even  the  words, 
of  the  originals ;  sometimes  I  have  given  free  rein  to 
my  own  imagination ;  and  throughout  I  have  endeav- 
ored so  to  arrange  and  retouch  the  individual  parts  of 
the  story  as  to  lend  interest  to  its  recital,  and  adapt  it 
to  our  own  ways  of  thinking,  and  our  modern  notions 
of  propriety.  The  oldest  story  of  Roland  was  doubt- 
less that  which  was  sung  by  the  minstrel  of  William  the 
Conqueror,  in  1066.  Wace,  in  his  account  of  the  battle 
of  Hastings,  says,  "  Taillefer,  who  sang  very  well,  rode 
before  the  duke,  singing  of  Charlemagne  and  of  Roland 
and  of  Oliver,  and  of  the  vassals  who  died  at  Ronce- 
vaux."  The  song  which  Taillefer  sang  must  have  been 
the  "  Chanson  de  Roland,"  written  by  one  Turold,  per- 
haps as  early  as  the  tenth  century.  It  is  by  far  the 
finest  of  all  the  "  tales  of  France."  More  than  twenty 
years  after  the  battle  of  Hastings,  there  appeared  a 
Latin  work,  entitled  "The  Life  of  Charles  the  Great 
and  of  Roland,"  which,  it  was  claimed,  had  been  written 
by  Archbishop  Turpin,  the  father  -confessor  of  Charle 


vSil  The  Fore  Word. 

magne.  The  falsity  of  this  claim  is  too  apparent  tc 
need  any  proof ;  and  yet  the  work,  having  been  sanc- 
tioned by  Pope  Calixtus,  and  placed  by  him  upon  the 
roll  of  canonical  books,  exerted  no  small  influence  over 
the  poetical  literature  which  followed  it,  and  supplied 
materials  and  suggestions  to  many  later  romancists. 
In  England,  in  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries, 
there  appeared  several  rhyming  romances  relating  to 
our  hero.  Among  these  were  "Sir  Ferumbras,"  an 
adaptation  of  a  French  poem,  entitled  "Fierabras," 
"  Otuel,"  and  "  Roland  and  Ferragus."  One  of  the 
first  books  printed  in  our  language  was  a  legendary 
history  of  Charlemagne,  entitled  "The  Lyf  of  Charles 
the  Great,  fynysshed  in  the  reducing  of  it  into  Eng- 
lysshe  the  xviii  day  of  Juin  MCCCCLXXXV.  Ex- 
plicit  per  William  Caxton."  In  our  own  time  Mr. 
Jehn  Malcolm  Ludlow,  in  his  "Popular  Epics  of  the 
Middle  Ages,"  has  given  us  a  valuable  critical  analysis 
f»f  some  of  the  most  noticeable  legends  of  Roland  and 
Charlemagne,  In  Germany  we  find  an  adaptation  oi 
the  "Chanson  de  Roland"  in  an  old  poem,  entitled 
"  Ruolandes  Liet,"  which  appeared,  probably,  as  early  as 
1177,  and  has  recently  been  edited  by  William  Grimm 
Karl  Simrock's  "  Kerlingisches  Heldenbuch  "  contains 


tore   Word.  be 


some  of  the  most  delightful  traditions  of  Roland  and 
Charlemagne;  and  the  "  Kaiserchronik,"  published  in 
1849,  gives  a  complete  legendary  history  of  Charle- 
magne and  his  peers  from  a  German  point  of  view. 
In  Italy  the  story  of  Roland  was  long  a  most  fertile 
and  attractive  theme,  and  gave  rise  to  more  than  one 
great  poem.  The  legends  relating  to  his  parentage 
and  boyhood  are  contained  in  the  "  Innamoramento  dl 
Milone  d'Anglante,"  printed  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
and  in  several  other  poems  much  older  ;  the  "  Orlando 
Innamorato  "  of  Boiardo  tells  us  of  the  marvellous  ad- 
ventures of  our  hero  in  Fairyland  and  in  the  Far  East  ; 
the  "  Orlando  Furioso  "  of  Ariosto  tells  of  his  prowess 
as  a  knight,  his  disappointment  in  love,  his  madness 
and  ultimate  recovery  ;  the  "  Morgan  te  Maggiore  "  of 
Pulci  relates  the  story  of  his  later  adventures  and  his 
death.  In  the  mediaeval  romances  of  Spain  the  name 
of  Roland  is  of  frequent  occurrence  ;  and  the  story, 
modified  to  suit  the  prejudices  of  Spanish  readers,  is 
found  in  numerous  old  songs  and  poems,  some  of  them 
as  early  as  the  twelfth  century.  There  is,  in  short, 
no  country  in  Europe,  and  no  language,  in  which  the 
exploits  of  Charlemagne  and  of  Roland  have  not  at 
some  time  been  recounted  and  sung. 


The  Fore  Word. 


In  relating  the  story  of  Roland  it  would,  of  course,  be 
impossible  to  avoid  some  mention  of  Oliver  and  Rein- 
old,  and  Ogier  the  Dane,  —  heroes  who  were  his  com- 
panions in  arms,  and  who  rivalled  him  in  the  number 
and  greatness  of  their  exploits.  I  have  therefore  been 
at  some  pains  to  give,  from  the  same  ancient  sources, 
the  most  popular  and  pleasing  legends  concerning  these 
valorous  knights,  one  of  whom,  at  least,  can  lay  claim 
to  an  historical  existence. 

The  old  bards  and  story-tellers  who  invented,  embel- 
lished, and  sang  these  famous  "  tales  of  France,"  were 
accustomed  to  modify,  recast,  and  remodel  their  stories 
so  as  to  adapt  them  to  the  tastes  and  demands  of  their 
audiences.  In  presenting  the  story  of  Roland  for  the 
first  time  in  a  connected  form  and  to  a  popular  audi- 
ence, I  shall  certainly  be  pardoned  if  I  endeavor  tt  fol 
low  their  example. 


CONTENTS. 


THE  FORE   WORD 


FAGS 

•  •• 

111 


ADVENTURE 

I.  ROLAND  AND  OLIVER  .        . 

II.  THE  KING'S  GUEST  .... 

III.  THE  WAR  WITH  THE  SAXONS 

IV.  THE  KNIGHT  OF  THE  SWAN    . 

V.  OGIER  THE  DANE 

VI.  How  THE  ARMY  CROSSED  THE  ALPS 

VII.  KNIGHTED  ON  THE  BATTLEFIELD 

VIII.  How  OGIER  WON  SWORD  AND  HORSE 

IX.  ROLAND'S  ARMS 

X.  A  ROLAND  FOR  AN  OLIVER     .        . 

XI.  REINOLD  OF  MONTALBAN      .        .        . 

XIL  MALAGIS  THE  WIZARD 

XIII.  THE  PRINCESS  OF  CATHAY   . 

XIV.  IN  THE  WOOD  OF  ARDENNES  . 

XV.  ROLAND'S  QUEST  IN  THE  FAR  EAST    . 

XVL  How  REINOLD  FARED  TO  CATHAY  . 

XVII.  IN  THE  GARDENS  OF  FALERINA    . 

XVIII.  MORGAN  THE  FAY     .... 

XIX.  How  OGIER  REFUSED  A  KINGDOM 

XX.  How  ROLAND  SLEW  A  SEA  MONSTER 

XXI.  How  ROLAND  FELL  INTO  PRISON 


i 

18 

34 
42 

47 

57 
70 

81 

97 
114 

133 

149 

175 

192 

199 

211 
218 
232 
240 

245 

255 


XI 


Contents. 


ABYBNTUKK 

FftCS 

XXII. 

BRADAMANT  THE  WARRIOR  MAIDEN    .... 

266 

XXIIL 

THE  WINGED  HORSE  OF  THE  PYREKKKS       .      , 

285 

XXIV. 

How  ROLAND  LOST  HIS  HELMET         .       •       .       « 

^94 

XXV. 

THE  BATTLE        .                                     •       «       , 

399 

XXVL 

MEDORO  THE  MOOR        

J06 

XXVII. 

A  CONTEST  FOR  DURAMDAL      . 

3*7 

XXVIII. 

How  ROLAND  BECAME  HIS  OWN  SHADOW  .       .       . 

3*9 

XXIX. 

A  FLIGHT  TO  THE  LAND  OF  PRESTERJOHN   . 

344 

XXX. 

How  THE  PEERS  RETURNED  TO  FRANCE 

361 

XXXI. 

How  CHARLEMAGNE  FOUGHT  AGAINST  OGOKR       . 

365 

XXXII. 

THE  VALE  OF  THORNS  »..«••. 

383 

THE  AFTER  WORD 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS, 


From  ttr&wings  by  R*  3,  Birth, 


ACCOLADE 

ROLAND  AND  OLIVKR  ON  THE  HnxiCDS . 
T&E  WHITE  STAG    . 
**A  ROLAND  FOR  AN 
TKB  FOUNTAIN  OF  MEHUS? 
t*KE  COMBAT  AT  MIDNIGHT 
Iw  THE  DRAGON'S  DEM  . 
THE  GASDKNS  OF  FALKBIHJ 
BRADAMANT  AND  PINAB.KL 
CLORIDAN  AND  MSDORO. 
ROLAND'S 
THE  BRIDGE  OF 
THE  HARPIES 


t        -3         •         • 


»       I       a       • 


re* 


I     •     t     •     • 


!••:•* 


•      ;      » 


»     •      •      •     • 


•     a     •     *     • 


a     •     •     • 


9*4 


THE  DEATH  OF  ROLAND 

AJ»D  THE  Ho&SS 


Froatbpiet*, 
Tb/a&e  pagg    4 


«.          4         fi         «          V 


•      •      •      •      • 


»      <       » 


1- 


197 

«   «  sio 

e     a 


*  308 

"    "  335 

«  343 

«   "  3S3 

•  *  376 

*  *  399 


RQLAN1 


ADVENTURE  L 


ROLAND  AND  OLIVER. 

summer  afternoon  rather  more  than  eleven  hun- 
years  ago,  the  boy  Roland  was  sitting  in  the  cleft 
of  a  broken  rock  that  forms  the  crest  of  one  of  the  hills 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Sutri.  Above  him  was  the  deep 
blue  sky  of  Italy,  unflecked  by  any  cloud :  on  either 
side  of  him  stretched  a  dull,  uneven  plain,  broken  here 
and  there  by  wet  marshes,  and  long  lines  of  low  hills. 
A  mila  or  more  to  the  south,  and  partly  hidden  behind 
the  br®w  of  the  hill,  ^ould  be  seen  the  old  town,  with 
its  strong  castle,  and  its  half-ruined  amphitheatre,  and 
its  white-walled  monastery.  Directly  beneath  him  was 
the  dusty  highroad,  which,  after  winding  among  the 
straggling  vineyards  and  the  little  farms  that  dotted  the 
plain,  was  lost  to  sight  in  a  strip  of  dusky  woodland 
a  league  and  more  to  the  northward.  Along  that  road 
King  Charlemagne,  with  the  flower  of  his  great  army, 
was  hourly  expected  to  pass,  marching  on  his  way  to 
the  castle  of  Sutri,  where  he  was  to  be  entertained  for 
a  time  as  a  guest ;  &nd  it  was  for  this  reason  that  th«s 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


lad  sat  so  still,  and  watched  so  long,  in  his  half-hiddea 
perch  on  the  hilltop. 

Every  thing,  as  if  awed  by  the  near  coming  of 
the  hero  king,  seemed  strangely  still  that  afternoon. 
Scarcely  a  sign  of  life  was  to  be  seen  ;  and  the  places 
which  at  other  times  had  been  noisy  with  busy  work- 
ers were  now  silent  and  deserted.  The  reapers,  who 
yesterday  had  made  the  wheat-fields  ring  with  their  gay 
jests  and  their  rude  songs,  had  left  their  sickles  in  the 
fields,  and  stolen  silently  away.  The  young  girls  who 
had  been  gleaning  the  fallen  grain,  and  whose  laughter 
had  awakened  the  echoes  among  the  hills,  were  nowhere 
to  be  seen  to-day,  although  the  eagle  eyes  of  Roland 
sought  them  on  every  hand.  Along  the  highroad, 
which  at  other  times  seemed  alive  with  the  busy  folk 
coming  and  going  between  Sutri  and  Viterbo,  neither 
man,  woman,  nor  beast  was  stirring.  But  off  toward 
Sutri  the  boy  could  see  that  things  were  quite  differ- 
ent. The  town  seemed  to  be  decked  in  holiday  attire : 
the  governor's  castle  was  draped  with  gay  bunting,  and 
flags  and  banners  floated  from  the  turret-tops.  Com- 
panies of  knights  dressed  in  rich  livery  rode  hither  ami 
thither,  impatiently  waiting  the  word  from  the  watch- 
man above  the  gates  to  go  out  and  meet  the  kingly 
guest.  The  streets  were  crowded  with  hurrying,  eager 
folk,  who  knew  not  whether  to  hail  the  coming  of  Char- 
lemagne and  his  host  as  a  blessing,  or  to  look  upon  it  as 
a  calamity. 

Now  and  then  the  sound  of  voices  from  the  towo. 


Roland  and  Oliver.  3 

or  the  cries  of  the  soldiers  in  the  garrison,  came  to 
Roland's  ears ;  and  anon  he  heard  the  monks  in  the 
monastery  drowsily  chanting  their  prayers.  And  there 
he  sat,  waiting  and  wondering,  and  anxiously  watching 
for  any  sign  of  the  coming  host.  The  fair  face  of  the 
lad,  and  the  long  flaxen  hair  which  fell  in  glistening 
waves  upon  his  bare  shoulders,  showed  his  kinship  to 
the  hardy  races  of  the  North.  And  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  piercing  look  of  his  eye,  in  the  proud  curl 
of  his  lip,  in  the  haughty  turn  of  his  head,  which  made 
him  seem  like  a  young  king  among  men,  and  which 
often  had  caused  those  who  met  him  to  doff  the  hat  in 
humble  courtesy.  He  was  very  poorly  clad :  his  head 
and  limbs  were  bare  ;  and  the  thin,  scant  clothing  which 
covered  his  body  was  nought  but  rags  and  shreds.  Yet 
he  bore  himself  proudly,  as  one  who  knew  his  own 
worth,  and  who,  having  a  blameless  heart,  had  nothing 
of  which  to  feel  ashamed. 

And  now  the  sun  began  to  slope  toward  the  west ; 
and,  with  each  moment  that  passed,  the  lad's  eagerness 
seemed  to  grow  greater.  By  and  by  another  boy  came 
over  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  stood  in  the  cleft  of  the 
rock  by  the  side  of  Roland,  and  with  him  gazed  down 
the  deserted  road.  He  seemed  to  be  of  about  the  same 
age  as  Roland,  and,  like  him,  was  tall  and  sparely  built. 
His  dark  hair  and  overhanging  brows,  his  ruddy  face 
and  flashing  eyes,  betokened  an  equal  kinship  with  the 
danger-daring  North-folk  and  the  leisure-loying  people 
of  the  South.  He  wore  the  rich  dress  of  a  court  page. 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


and  carried  himself  with  a  lofty  grace  such  as  only 
those  who  bear  brave  hearts  can  ever  show. 

"  I  feared  you  were  not  coming,  Oliver,"  said  Roland 
offering  his  hand,  but  not  once  turning  his  head,  01 
taking  his  eyes  from  the  distant  woodland. 

"  It  was  indeed  hard  for  me  to  get  leave/'  answered 
the  other.  "  But  the  ladies  at  the  castle  are  very  kind, 
and  here  I  am ;  and  I  mean  to  be,  with  you,  the  first  to 
see  the  great  king  and  his  valiant  knights.  Yet  he  is 
late." 

"I  think  I  see  them  coming  now,"  said  Roland. 
"  There  is  a  glimmering  of  light  among  the  trees,  which 
I  think  must  be  the  flashing  of  the  sun  upon  their 
armor.  And  it  grows  brighter,  and  seems  to  come 


nearer.' 


He  had  scarcely  finished  speaking,  when  the  clear 
notes  of  a  bugle  were  heard,  borne  faintly  to  them  on 
the  breeze.  And  soon  they  heard  a  sound  like  the  dis- 
tant dashing  of  waves  against  the  seashcre,  the  rustling 
of  myriads  of  dry  leaves  in  the  autumn  woods,  the  faint 
rumbling  of  a  far-away  storm  cloud.  They  knew  that 
it  was  nought  but  the  noise  made  by  the  trampling  of 
many  feet,  the  heavy  tread  of  war-horses,  the  rattling 
ol  arms  and  armor.  Then  a  great  cloud  of  dust  was 
seen  rising  like  a  mist  above  the  treetops  ;  and  the  rain- 
bow-hued  banners  of  the  coming  host  hove  in  sight. 

Presently  the  edge  of  the  wood  seemed  ablaze  with 
flashing  shields  and  glittering  war  coats.  The  boy 
Roland  leaped  to  his  feet.  He  stood  on  tiptoe,  and 


ROLAND   AND   OLIVER   ON   THE   HILLSIDE. 


Roland  and  Oliver. 


strained  himself  eagerly  forward ;  his  face  beamed 
with  delight ;  and  his  eyes  sparkled  with  that  strange 
wild  fire  which  in  after-days,  in  the  midst  of  the  battle's 
din,  was  wont  to  strike  his  foes  with  terror.  Oliver 
climbed  to  the  highest  point  of  the  rock,  and  gazed 
with  an  eagerness  half  mixed  with  fear,  at  the  wonder 
ml  array  of  steel-clad  warriors,  who  now  could  be  plainly 
seen  issuing  from  the  woodland.  Like  a  torrent  of  roll- 
ing, flashing  waters,  the  host  of  Charlemagne  came 
moving  along  the  line  of  the  highway,  and  spreading 
across  the  plain.  They  came  not,  however,  in  all  the 
array  of  battle,  nor  with  their  terrible  engines  of  war, 
nor,  indeed,  as  enemies  bent  on  pillage,  or  seeking 
revenge ;  but  they  came,  rather,  as  an  army  of  peace, 
with  music  sounding,  and  banners  flying,  and  words 
of  good-will  and  friendship  to  all.  For  Charlemagne, 
having  left  off  fighting  with  the  Lombards,  was  on  his 
way  to  Rome,  with  the  best  and  bravest  of  his  warri- 
ors, to  receive  the  homage  and  the  blessing  of  the 
Pope, 

The  vanguard  of  the  procession  drew  rapidly  nearer. 
In  front  rode  four  and  twenty  knights,  the  heralds  of 
the  king,  bearing  aloft  the  silken  banner  of  France  and 
the  golden  eagle  of  Rome.  They  were  clad  in  rich 
armor,  which  glittered  like  gold  in  the  sunlight ;  their 
shields  were  inlaid  with  many  priceless  gems,  and  pol- 
ished as  bright  as  mirrors ;  and  the  sharp  points  of 
their  long  lances  flashed  around  them,  like  the  restless 
gleams  of  lightning  in  the  van  of  a  summer  storm-cloud 


Ihe  Story  of  Koiand. 


They  were  mounted  on  milk-white  horses  trapped  with 
white  cloth-of-gold,  with  gold-red  saddles,  and  housings 
of  bluest  silk. 

The  boy  Roland  had  never  seen  any  thing  so  beau* 
tiful  or  so  grand,  and  he  thought  that  one  of  thesa 
knights  must  surely  be  Charlemagne.  And  as  they 
drew  very  near  to  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  he  could 
look  down  almost  upon  the  heads  of  the  brilliant  com- 
pany, he  called  to  Oliver,  and  asked,  — 

"  Which  of  these  knights  is  the  great  Charles  ?  Is 
it  not  he  who  rides  nearest  the  standard-bearer  ?  He, 
surely,  is  the  noblest  warrior  of  them  all ;  and  he  rides 
with  a  grace  which  well  becomes  a  king." 

But  this  scene,  which  filled  the  mind  of  Roland  with 
such  astonishment,  was  not  altogether  new  to  Oliver 
Not  many  months  before,  his  father,  the  governor  of 
Sutri,  had  taken  him  on  a  visit  to  the  court  of  Charle- 
magne ;  and  there  he  had  witnessed  the  splendor  of  the 
king's  surroundings,  and  had  heard  of  the  fearful  might 
of  his  warriors. 

"  No,"  he  answered.  "  The  great  king  is  not  one  of 
these.  They  are  but  heralds  and  messengers,  who  ride 
before  to  my  father's  castle  to  see  that  every  thing  is 
in  readiness  for  their  master.  They  are  right  courtly 
fellows,  I  ween,  fair  of  speech,  and  comely  of  form ;  but 
I  doubt  if  any  of  them  would  be  ranked  among  his 
bravest  knights." 

Following  the  heralds  came  a  body  of  guards, —  a 
thousand  men  of  giant  stature,  and  muscles  of  iron,  — 


Roland  and  Oliver. 


incajed  from  head  to  foot  in  strongest  armor,  and  riding 
heavy  war-steeds  trapped  with  steel.  After  these  came 
a  long  line  of  bishops  and  abbots  and  monks  and  priests, 
most  of  them  dressed  in  the  garb  of  their  office  or  pro 
fession,  and  riding  on  the  backs  of  palfreys  or  of  mules 

"  See  you  the  tall  bishop,  dressed  partly  in  armor,  and 
carrying  a  crucifix  in  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he 
toys  with  his  sword-hilt  ? '  asked  Oliver.  "  That  is  the 
brave  Turpin,  one  of  the  peers  of  Charlemagne.  He  is 
at  home  in  the  battlefield  as  well  as  before  the  altar, 
and  many  an  unbelieving  Pagan  has  felt  the  thrust  of 
his  lance.  But  see  !  here  comes  the  king  himself  ! ' 

The  whole  highway  and  the  fields  before  them  now 
seemed  filled  with  steel-coated  men,  and  horses  clothed 
in  steel  trappings  ;  and  the  long  lances  in  the  hands  of 
the  knights  seemed  as  thick-set  as  the  blades  of  grass 
in  an  autumn  meadow.  Everywhere  were  seen  the 
gleam  of  polished  steel  and  the  waving  of  gay  plumes 
and  many-colored  pennons ;  and  here  and  there  were 
banners,  of  varied  shapes  and  every  hue,  on  which  were 
emblazoned  mottoes,  and  the  strange  devices  of  the  war- 
riors  who  bore  them.  First  and  foremost  in  this  com- 
pany was  Charlemagne  himself,  clad  in  steel  from  head 
io  foot,  and  riding  a  horse  of  the  color  of  steel  and  the 
strength  of  steel.  Roland,  as  soon  as  he  saw  him,  knew 
that  this  must  be  the  king ;  for  there  was  no  other  man 
who  seemed  so  kingly,  or  who  bore  himself  with  so 
lordly  a  grace.  The  noblest  knight  among  his  followers 
seemed  but  a  weak  stripling  when  seen  by  the  side  of 


8  The  Story  of  Roland. 

the  matchless  Charlemagne.  In  his  left  hand  he  carried 
a  lance  of  steel  of  wondrous  length,  while  his  right 
hand  held  the  reins  of  his  fiery  steed.  His  head  was 
bare,  for  he  had  laid  aside  his  helmet ;  and  his  long  hair 
fell  in  waves  upon  his  steel-covered  shoulders.  His 
broad  shield,  which  was  carried  by  an  attendant  knight, 
was  of  plated  steel  of  three  thicknesses  bound  together 
with  iron  bolts.  His  thighs  were  encircled  with  plates 
of  steel,  and  his  hands  were  garnished  with  steel  gaunt- 
lets. On  his  kingly  face  a  smile  lingered  ;  and  from  his 
gleaming  gray  eyes  sparks  of  fire  seemed  to  shoot ;  and 
under  a  weight  of  armor  which  would  have  borne  down 
a  common  man  he  carried  himself  erect  and  proud,  like 
one  who  was  every  inch  a  king.1 

With  wonder,  rather  than  with  awe,  Roland  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  noble  figure  of  Charlemagne ;  and 
he  did  not  withdraw  his  gaze  until  a  sudden  turn  of  the 
road  around  the  hill  toward  Sutri  hid  the  steel-clad 
company  from  his  sight.  He  did  not  care  to  see  that 
part  of  the  host  which  followed.  He  had  no  thought 
for  the  throng  of  squires  and  pages,  and  the  crowd  of 
common  soldiers  and  grooms,  who  brought  up  the  rear 
with  the  baggage  and  the  camp  equipage  and  the  led 
horses  of  the  knights.  He  had  seen  the  great  Charles, 
and  that  was  afl  he  wished.  He  beckoned  to  Oliver ; 
and  the  two  boys  climbed  down  from  their  well-hidden 
lookout,  and  started  homeward. 

To  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  soldiery,  and  to  shun 

1  See  Note  t  at  the  end  of  this  relume. 


Roland  and  Oliver. 


other  hinderances,  they  followed  a  narrow  pathway 
which  led  them  over  the  hill,  and  down  the  slope  on  the 
other  side  from  that  where  the  highway  ran.  Not  a 
word  did  either  speak  until  they  reached  the  level  fields  \ 
but  here  they  paused,  for  here  they  must  needs  part 
The  path  which  Oliver  was  to  take  led  southward  to  the 
lordly  castle  of  Sutri,  where,  that  night  and  the  follow- 
ing day,  Charlemagne  and  his  warriors  were  to  rest  and 
be  entertained.  But  Roland's  way  lay  across  the  lonely 
fields  to  a  far  different  dwelling  among  the  barren  hills. 
Before  they  parted,  each  took  the  other's  hand  ;  and  both 
stood  for  some  time  in  silence,  their  hearts  full  of 
thoughts  too  big  to  find  utterance  in  speech.  Roland 
spoke  first 

"Some  day,  Oliver,"  said  he,  "we,  too,  shall  be 
knights,  and  we  shall  ride  with  Charlemagne  and  his 
peers  as  proud  as  the  proudest  warriors  we  have  seen 
to-day." 

"Yes,"  answered  Oliver,  his  face  beaming  with 
delight.  "  And  boldly  will  we  fare  over  land  and  sea, 
fighting  the  Pagan  folk,  and  doing  worthy  deeds  for  the 
honor  of  God,  the  king,  and  the  ladies." 

"  My  mother  has  often  told  me,"  said  Roland,  "  that 
the  day  when  I  should  first  see  Charlemagne  would  be 
to  me  the  beginning  of  a  new  life.  I  know  not  why 
she  said  it ;  but  I  have  seen  the  great  king,  and  I  feel 
that  a  wonderful  change  has  come  to  me,  and  that  I 
shall  no  longer  be  a  mere  beggar  boy.  I  must  soon  be 
up  and  away,  doing  my  part  in  this  busy  world.  Let 


io  The  Story  of  Roland, 

as  now,  like  real  knights,  pledge  ourselves  as  brothers 
in-arms.  Next  to  my  mother,  you  are  my  dearest  friend 
Let  me  call  you  my  brother." 

"You  are  indeed  my  brother,  Roland,"  answer  ei 
Oliver  earnestly.  "You  are  my  brother.  Don't  yo^ 
remember,  that,  since  the  day  when  you  gave  me  such 
a  well-deserved  drubbing  for  laughing  at  your  ragged 
clothing,  we  have  been  sworn  brothers-in-arms  ?  D*d 
any  one  ever  apologize  for  a  fault  more  heartily  thac  I 
did  then  ?  And  did  any  one  ever  forgive  with  fre^i 
grace  than  you  forgave  me  ?  And  have  any  two  per- 
sons ever  loved  with  a  truer  love  than  that  which  bin4s 
us  together  ? ' 

"But  we  are  only  boys,"  said  Roland.  "You  are  ? 
page  and  a  prince.  I  am  a  beggar  and  a  prince :  «.' 
least  so  I  have  been  told  in  my  dreams.  The  next  tiiw 
we  meet,  we  may  both  be  knights.  Let  us  pledge  out 
selves,  that,  let  that  meeting  be  when  it  may,  it  shall  **,• 
a  meeting  between  brothers-in-arms." 

Without  more  words,  the  two  boys,  still  holding  ear  b 
other's  hands,  knelt  together  by  the  roadside.  AM! 
they  vowed  to  be  true  to  each  other  so  long  as  li^a 
should  last ;  to  share  together  whatever  fortune  migh! 
betide,  whether  it  should  be  good  or  ill ;  to  meet  aai 
dangers  together,  and  to  undertake  all  great  enterprises 
in  company;  to  rejoice  together  in  success,  and 
together  when  sorrow  should  come  ;  to  devote  their  11 
to  the  succor  of  the  helpless  and  to  the  defence  of  the 
;  and,  if  need  be,  to  die  for  each  other. 


Roland  and  Oliver.  \\ 

"And  now,"  said  Oliver,  as  they  rose  to  their  feet5 
"  let  us,  like  true  knights,  seal  our  vow  of  brotherhood 
by  exchanging  tokens." 

And  with  the  word  he  took  from  his  girdle  a  little 
daggei  with  long  gleaming  blade  and  a  handle  of  ivory 
richly  carved,  and  inlaid  with  gold.  It  was  a  gift  frorc 
his  grandfather,  Gerard  of  Viana,  and  had  once  belonged 
to  the  Pagan  king  of  Morocco.  It  was  the  dearest  of 
Oliver's  possessions,  and  hence  the  fittest  token  to 
present  to  his  brother-in-arms.  As  Roland  took  it 
from  his  hand,  and  gazed  with  pleased  eyes  upon  its 
razor  edges,  gleaming  like  lines  of  silver  light,  tears 
stood  in  his  eyes,  for  he  knew  how  highly  its  owner 
prized  it.  Then  from  the  folds  of  his  ragged  garment 
he  drew  the  short,  broken  fragment  of  an  old  sword- 
blade,  dimmed  with  age  and  much  rust,  and  dull  with 
many  notches. 

"My  token,"  said  he,  "is  but  a  poor  return  for  the 
beautiful  keepsake  you  have  given  me.  But  it  is  very 
dear  to  me,  and  I  know  that  it  will  also  be  dear  to  you. 
It  is  all  that  was  left  of  my  father's  sword,  when, 
hemmed  in  by  Pagan  foes,  he  sold  his  life  dearly  in 
fight,  and  died  for  the  honor  of  the  king  and  the 
church." 

Oliver  took  the  proffered  token  reverently,  for  he 
already  knew  its  story.  He  gazed  a  moment  at  the 
curious  letters  carved  on  its  sides,  and  at  its  hacked 
and  battered  edge ;  and  then  he  placed  it  carefully  in 
his  girdle.  And  the  two  boys,  after  many  earnest  words 


12  The  Story  of  Roland. 


and  many  kind  good-bys,  turned  away,  and  each  has- 
tened toward  his  own  home. 

By  this  time  the  sun  had  gene  down,  and  the  short 
twilight  was  fast  giving  place  to  darkness.  With  hasty 
steps  Roland  made  his  way  across  the  fields  toward  the 
low  line  of  yellow  hills,  which  now  could  be  scarcely 
seen,  lying  more  than  a  league  away,  dimly  outlined 
against  the  western  horizon.  It  was  quite  dark  long 
before  he  reached  them.  But  he  knew  the  way  well, 
and  a  light  shining  in  the  door  of  his  mother's  dwelling 
helped  to  guide  his  steps  across  the  uneven  ground. 
And  what  kind  of  a  dwelling  was  it  that  Roland  called 
his  home  ?  It  was  nothing  more  than  a  little  cave  hol- 
lowed out  of  the  rocky  hillside,  where,  long  before,  a 
hcly  hermit  had  made  himself  a  quiet  cell  in  which  to 
live,  and  worship  God.  The  narrow  entrance  to  the 
cave  was  in  great  part  hidden  by  flowering  vines,  which 
Roland's  mother  had  with  daily  care  coaxed  to  grow  in 
the  barren  soil,  and  had  trained  to  cling  to  the  rough 
rocks  and  twine  among  the  crevices  overhead.  Inside 
every  thing  betokened  poverty.  A  single  stool,  a  broken 
table,  a  few  earthen  dishes,  the  simple  articles  which 
ti>£  hermit  had  left,  —  these  were  the  only  pieces  of 
lUrniture.  In  one  corner  of  the  room  hung  an  old  set 
of  armor,  dinted  with  many  a  lance-thrust,  and  hacked 
in  many  a  battle,  but  still  kept  bright  against  the  day 
when  Roland  should  become  a  knight.  Near  it  leaned 
a  long,  broken  lance  which  had  done  duty  in  more  than 
one  tourney ;  and  beneath  it  was  a  battered  shield,  or 


Roland  and  Oliver.  13 

which  were  emblazoned  the  arms  of  Charlemagne.  The 
stone  floor  was  bare,  and  the  rough  stone  walls  were 
grimed  with  smoke,  and  the  low  ceilings  were  damp  with 
moisture.  Few  were  the  comforts  of  home  in  that 
humble  dwelling ;  and  but  for  the  kind  welcome  of  his 
queen-like  mother,  the  Lady  Bertha,  small  would  have 
been  the  cheer  that  Roland  would  have  found  there. 

"  I  have  seen  him,  mother ! '  he  cried,  rushing  into 
her  arms.  "  I  have  seen  the  great  Charles  and  his 
glorious  army  and  his  gallant  peers.  Would  that  I  were 
a  man,  that  I.  too,  might  ride  forth  with  the  king,  the 
bravest  of  the  orave ! ' 

Then  the  gentle  Bertha  took  the  lad's  hand  in  her 
own,  and  the  two  sat  down  together  in  their  lowly 
dwelling,  and  Roland  told  her  of  all  that  he  had  seen 
that  memorable  afternoon ;  but  he  talked  most  of  the 
noble  Charlemagne,  and  of  his  kingly  grace  and  bear- 
ing. Then  he  spoke  again  of  his  own  hopes  and  of  his 
high  ambition,  and  of  the  time  when  he  should  be  a 
knight,  and,  mayhap,  one  of  the  peers  of  the  king. 

"And  now,  dear  mother,"  said  he,  "the  time  has 
come  for  me  to  learn  the  great  secret  of  my  life.  To- 
lay  I  am  twelve  years  old,  —  old  enough  to  be  a  page ; 
lO-day  I  have  seen  Charlemagne ;  and  to-day  you  have 
promised  to  tell  me  all  about  my  kinsfolk  and  myself, 
and  the  great  destiny  which  lies  before  me." 

Then  the  Lady  Bertha  drew  the  lad  close  to  her,  and 
told  him  the  story  of  her  own  life  2nd  his,  — a  story  so 
of  strange  surprises  to  Roland,  that,  when  he  heard 


The  Story  of  Rolan 


it,  he  wept  for  joy  and  for  the  big  thoughts  that  came 
welling  up  from  his  heart.  She  told  him  that  the  great 
king  whom  he  had  seen  that  day,  and  whose  fame  was 
known  in  every  land,  was  his  uncle  and  her  own  brother. 
She  told  him  how  she,  the  spoiled  and  petted  daughtei 
of  Pepin,  had  been  brought  up  at  the  French  court; 
and  how,  after  her  father's  death,  she  had  lived  in  her 
brother's  kingly  palace  at  Aix,  loved  and  honored  next 
to  Charlemagne  himself.  Then  she  told,  how,  on  a  time, 
there  came  to  Charlemagne's  court  a  worthy  knight 
named  Milon,  —  a  warrior  poor  and  needy,  but  brave, 
and  without  reproach.  "  Milon  boasted  that  his  kin  had 
been  the  noblest  heroes  of  all  time.  Through  his  father 
he  traced  his  descent  from  the  Greeks  ;  and  he  wore 
the  arms  of  Trojan  Hector  engraved  upon  his  shield  ; 
and  he  numbered  among  his  ancestors  the  godlike  hero 
Hercules.  On  his  mother's  side  he  claimed  kinship 
with  the  fair-haired  heroes  of  the  North,  with  the  fear- 
less Vikings,  with  Siegfried  the  dragon-slayer,  with  the 
mighty  Thor,  and  the  matchless  Odin. 

"And  when  your  mother,  then  the  Princess  Bertha, 
saw  the  gallant  Count  Milon,  and  heard  of  his  noble- 
ness? and  learned  his  true  worth,  she  loved  him.  And 
your  uncle  Charlemagne  hated  him,  and  banished  him 
from  France,  and  sought  even  to  take  his  life  ;  for  he 
wished  to  wed  his  sister  to  Duke  Ganelon  of  Mayence, 
one  of  his  peers.  But,  when  Milon  fled  from  the  king's 
court  at  Aix,  he  went  not  alone  ;  he  took  me,  the  Prin- 
cess Bertha,  with  him  as  his  wife  :  for  the  good  Arch 


Roland  and   Oliver.  15 

bishcp  Turpin  had  secretly  married  us,  and  given  us  his 
blessing,  and  promised  to  help  us  on  our  way  to  Italy. 
When  Charlemagne  heard  how  he  had  been  outwitted, 
he  was  very  angry,  and  he  swore  that  he  would  do  his 
uttermost  to  ruin  Count  Milon,  and  to  bring  me  back  tc 
France,  and  make  me  the  wife  of  the  hated  Ganelon, 
And  so,  to  escape  his  anger,  we  dressed  ourselves  in 
the  guise  of  beggars,  and  wandered  on  foot  from  town 
to  t©wn  and  through  many  countries,  begging  our  bread. 
And  wherever  we  went  we  met  the  spies  of  Charle- 
magne seeking  for  Milon,  and  offering  a  price  for  his 
head.  At  last  we  came  to  Sutri,  tired  and  footsore,  and 
unable  to  go  any  farther.  And,  when  none  would  take 
us  into  their  houses,  we  found  shelter  in  this  wretched 
cave,  which  we  fitted  up  the  best  that  we  could,  to  serve 
as  a  home  until  we  could  soften  the  anger  of  Charle- 
magne, and  obtain  his  forgiveness.  But  soon  after  you 
were  born,  Roland,  the  Pagan  folk  crossed  the  sea,  and 
came  into  Italy,  and  threatened  Rome  itself.  Then 
your  father,  the  gallant  Milon,  remembering  his  knightly 
vows,  once  more  donned  his  armor  ;  and,  taking  his  lance 
and  his  shield,  he  went  out  to  do  battle  for  the  king  and 
Cor  the  holy  church.  You  know  the  rest.  You  know 
ftow  bravely  he  fought,  and  how  he  died,  as  heroes  die, 
with  his  face  toward  the  foe.  All  this  I  have  told  you 
often.  And  you  know  how  we  have  lived  these  long, 
weary  years  in  this  wretched  hermit  cell,  dependent  on 
our  kind  neighbors  for  food,  and  hop  ng  always  for 
brighter  and  better  days. 


1 6  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"  And  now  you  have  learned  the  story  of  your  birth 
and  your  kinship,  and  you  know  the  destiny  that  ia 
yours  if  you  but  do  your  part.  The  blood  that  flows  in 
your  veins  is  the  blood  of  heroes,  and  it  will  not  belie 
itself.  You  have  seen  Charlemagne,  and  to-day  is  the 
turning  point  in  your  life.  Before  the  king  leaves  Sutri, 
he  must  acknowledge  you  as  his  nephew,  and  take  you 
as  a  page  into  his  court." 

Then  mother  and  son  sat  long  together  in  the  quiet 
cell,  talking  of  the  past,  so  fraught  with  distress  and 
poverty  and  wretchedness,  and  of  the  unknown  future 
with  its  vague  promises  and  uncertain  hopes.  But  so 
great  was  the  lad's  trust  in  his  own  strength,  and  so 
firm  was  the  mother's  faith  in  her  son,  that  not  once 
did  clouds  of  doubt  darken  the  bright  pictures  which 
their  fancy  painted  of  the  good  fortune  yet  in  store  for 
them.  And  the  little  candle  which  lighted  the  humble 
room  burned  down,  and  left  them  in  darkness  ;  and  the 
moon  rose  over  the  hills,  and  peeped  in  through  the 
doorway,  and  sloped  downwards  toward  the  west ;  and 
the  stars,  one  by  one,  looked  in  between  the  vines,  and 
then  went  onward  in  their  endless  journey  around  the 
world ;  and  at  length  the  eastern  sky  began  to  brighten, 
and  then  to  blush  at  the  coming  of  the  sun ;  and  still 
the  Lady  Bertha  and  the  boy  Roland  sat,  unmindful  of 
the  passing  hours,  and  talked  of  the  new  life  which  they 
felt  must  soon  be  theirs.  But  when  the  morning  had 
fairly  come,  and  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  shot  in  upon 
them,  Roland,  as  if  suddenly  awakened,  sprang  to  his 
t,  and  cried,  — 


Roland  and  Oliver. 


"  Mother,  the  night  is  past,  and  the  day  has  dawned  ! 
—  the  first  day  in  the  great  new  life  which  is  mine. 
I  will  go  at  once  to  my  uncle,  the  king,  and  demand  my 
rights  and  yours." 

And  with  his  mother's  blessing  and  many  a  word  oi 
advice  well  fixed  in  his  memory,  the  lad  hurried  away, 
talking  rapid'y  across  the  fields  toward  SutrL 


1 8  The  Story  of  Roland. 


ADVENTURE  //. 


THE   KING'S   GUEST. 

IT  was  a  great  day  in  Sutri.  Never  since  the  old 
Roman  days  had  so  brilliant  a  company  of  warriors 
and  noble  men  been  seen  in  that  quiet  town.  In  the 
governor's  castle  the  king  and  the  peers  of  the  realm 
were  being  entertained  and  feasted.  The  chambers 
and  halls  and  courts  were  full  of  knights  and  squires ; 
and  every  one  talked  of  the  noble  order  of  chivalry,  and 
of  war,  and  of  arms  and  armor,  and  of  the  king's  prog- 
ress on  the  morrow  to  Rome.  In  the  broad  feast  hall, 
Charlemagne  and  his  peers  were  dining.  On  the  dais, 
by  the  side  of  the  king,  sat  Count  Rainier,  the  govern- 
or of  Sutri.  Around  them  stood  many  of  the  noblest 
knights,  attentive  to  their  slightest  wishes.  Next  below 
the  king  sat  Turpin,  the  warrior  bishop,  clad  to-day, 
oot  in  his  war  coat  of  steel,  but  in  his  rich  official  robes, 
and  looking  much  more  the  priest  than  the  knight. 
Next  to  him  sat  Duke  Namon  of  Bavaria,  the  king's 
counsellor,  gray-bearded  and  sage,  strong  in  fight,  anJ 
wise  in  statesmanship,  —  the  oldest  and  the  most  trusted 
of  all  the  peers.  On  the  other  side  was  Malagis,  the 


The  King's  Guest. 


cunning  dwarf,  who,  it  was  said,  had  power  over  the 
unseen  creatures  of  the  air,  and  by  means  of  witchery 
could  sometimes  foretell  the  things  that  were  about  to 
befall,  Next  to  him  was  old  Ganelon  of  Mayence,  at 
heart  a  vile  trailor,  the  smile  of  a  hypocrite  resting  on 
his  thin  lips,  and  his  serpent-eyes  twinkling  with  ar< 
evil  light.  On  either  side  of  the  long  table  below  sat 
many  worthy  knights,  the  most  trusted  warriors  of 
Charlemagne,  and  the  doughtiest  heroes  in  Christen- 
dom. I  doubt  if  ever  more  valor  was  seen  in  castle 
hall. 

Mirth  and  revelry  ruled  the  hour ;  and  the  long,  low 
hall  rang  with  the  sound  of  the  harp  and  the  flute 
and  the  glad  voices  of  the  singers.  The  great  oaken 
table  groaned  beneath  its  weight  of  good  cheer.  The 
lordly  Count  Rainier  had  provided  for  this  feast  every 
thing  that  was  pleasant  to  the  taste,  or  that  could  add 
zest  to  the  appetite.  The  richest  meats  and  the  rarest 
fruits,  sparkling  wine  and  foaming  ale,  the  whitest  bread 
and  the  most  tempting  sweetmeats  —  all  were  offered  in 
generous  profusion  as  if  on  purpose  to  make  the  knights 
forgetful  of  their  vows  of  temperance.  In  the  court- 
yard, around  the  open  door,  stood  numbers  of  the  poor 
people  of  the  town,  listening  to  the  music,  and  waiting 
for  the  morsels  that  would  be  left  after  the  feast.  Sud- 
denly a  young  boy,  ragged  and  barefooted,  appeared 
among  them.  All  stood  aside  for  him,  as,  with  proud 
step  and  flashing  eyes,  he  entered  the  great  hall.  With 
the  air  of  a  lord  he  pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd 


20  Ttu  Story  of  Roland. 

of  attendant  knights  and  squires,  and  walked  boldly  up 
to  the  table.  Then,  without  saying  a  word,  he  seized 
upon  a  basket  of  rare  fruit  and  a  loaf  of  bread  that  had 
been  placed  before  the  king. 

"Indeed,"  said  Charlemagne,  "that  is  a  bold  boye 
He  will  make  a  brave  knight." 

But  those  who  stood  around  were  so  awed  by  the 
lad's  proud  bearing  and  by  the  strange  flash  of  his  eyes, 
that  they  dared  not  touch  him  ;  nor  did  they  think  of 
placing  any  hinderance  in  his  way  until  he  had  seized 
the  golden  wine-cup  which  Charlemagne  was  on  the 
point  of  lifting  to  his  lips. 

"Stop!'  cried  the  king.  "How  dare  you  be  so 
rude  ? " 

But  Roland  held  fast  to  his  prize ;  and,  fearless  as  a 
young  eagle,  he  gazed  into  the  face  of  the  king.     Charle- 
magne tried  hard  to  appear  angry ;  but,  in  spite  of  him 
self,  a  pleasant  smile  played  upon  his  face,  and  his  eyes 
twinkled  merrily, 

"My  boy,"  said  he,  "the  forest  is  a  fitter  place  than 
this  banquet  hall  for  such  as  you.  You  would  do  better 
picking  nuts  from  the  trees  than  snatching  dishes  from 
the  king's  table  ;  and  the  wine  which  you  have  taken 
from  my  hand  is  not  nearly  so  good  for  you  as  the  water 
in  the  flowing  brook." 

"  The  peasant  drinks  from  the  brook,"  answered 
Roland  proudly ;  "  the  slave  gathers  nuts  in  the  forest. 
But  to  my  mother  belong  the  best  things  that  your  table 
affords.  The  choicest  game,  the  rarest  fish,  the  reddest 
wine,  are  hers," 


King's   truest.  21 


"  Ha  !  "  cried  the  king.  "  Your  mother  must  indeed 
be  a  noble  lady  !  And  I  suppose  you  will  tell  me  that 
she  lives  in  a  lordly  castle,  with  scores  of  brave  knights 
and  gentle  dames  about  her,  and  that  she  sits  daily  in  her 
great  feast  hall  at  a  table  loaded  with  every  delicacy 
How  many  servants  has  she  ?  Who  is  her  carver  ?  stnc> 
who  is  her  cup-bearer  ?  Come,  tell  us  all  about  it." 

"  My  right  hand  is  her  carver/'  answered  Roland  ; 
"and  my  left  hand  is  her  cup-bearer." 

"  And  has  she  soldiers  and  watchmen  and  minstrelsf 
this  wonderful  mother  of  yours  ?  ' 

"  Indeed  she  has.  These  two  arms  are  her  soldiers  ; 
these  eyes  are  her  watchmen  ;  these  lips  are  her  min- 
strels." 

"  That  is  a  numerous  household  and  a  worthy  one," 
answered  the  king,  now  very  much  amused.  "  But  your 
good  mother  has  strange  taste  in  the  matter  of  livery 
for  her  servantSo  I  see  they  are  all  bareheaded  and 
barefooted;  and  their  clothing,  what  there  is  of  it,  if 
made  of  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  How  came  she 
to  furnish  you  with  a  robe  so  rich  and  rare  ?  ' 

*'  My  robe  is  of  my  own  furnishing,"  answered  Roland. 
"  Eight  boys  in  the  town  do  me  homage  ;  and  they  pay 
me  tribute  in  cloth,  each  a  different  color.  And  now, 
my  lord,  since  you  have  learned  all  about  my  mother 
and  her  household,  will  you  not  visit  her  in  her  castle  ?  ' 

Before  the  king  could  answer,  the  boy  had  turned  on 
his  heel,  and,  with  the  basket  of  food  and  the  cup  of 
wine  in  his  hands,  he  fearlessly  walked  out  of  the  hall 


22  The  Story  of  Roland. 

Charlemagne  was  surprised  at  the  boldness  of  the  la.d; 
and  delighted  with  his  witty  answers. 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  he.  "  A  braver  lad  I  have  neve? 
seen ;  and  he  well  deserves  his  prize.  He  v/ill  yet  be- 
come the  noblest  knight  in  Christendom." 

Then,  turning  to  Duke  Namon,  he  whispered,  "  Sa^ 
you  that  strange  flash  in  his  eye  ?  Was  there  ever  a 
fairer  countenance,  or  a  more  king-like  form  ?  Tell  me 
truly,  did  he  not  remind  you  of  some  one  you  have  s^en 
elsewhere  ? ' 

"  He  did,  my  lord,"  answered  Namon.  "  He  reminded 
me  of  your  worthy  father,  the  great  Pepin.  He  has  the 
same  noble  features,  the  same  broad  brow,  the  same 
clear  gray  eyes  flashing  with  a  strange  light.  He 
reminded  me,  too,  of  yourself.  Had  he  been  clothed 
in  a  garb  befitting  a  prince,  I  should  have  imagined 
that  I  saw  you  again  as  you  appeared  when  a  boy.  But 
he  reminded  me  most  of  your  lost  sister,  the  fair  Prin- 
cess Bertha,  The  same  gentleness  of  manner,  the  same 
proud  carriage  of  the  head,  the  same  curl  of  the  lip,  — 
qualities  that  we  once  admired  so  much  in  the  Lady 
Bertha,  —may  all  be  seen  in  this  wonderful  boy." 

*'J  dreamed  last  night,"  said  the  king,  "that  my  dar- 
ling sister  came  to  me,  leading  just  such  a  boy  as  this, 
And  I  thought  that  he  grew  tall  and  strong,  and  that 
the  whole  world  looked  up  to  him  as  a  pattern  of 
knightly  valor  and  courtesy,  and  that  he  carried  my 
whole  kingdom  upon  his  shoulders  Now  this  boy  is 
no  common  lad  ;  and  the  mother  of  whom  he  speaks 


The  King's  Guest.  23 

can  be  no  common  beggar.     My  heart  tells  me  that  she 
is  the  long-lost,  long-forgiven  Bertha." 

"  Your  heart  speaks  rightly,"  answered  Namon.  " The 
son  of  no  other  lady  could  bear  so  perfect  a  likeness  to 
the  Pepins.  I  am  sure  that  we  have  found  her  at  last" 

Then  Charlemagne  turned  to  the  dwarf  Malagis. 
"What  say  you,  sir  wizard?'  he  asked.  "You  have 
the  gift  of  foresight,  and  you  can  read  that  which  lies 
hidden  to  the  eyes  of  others.  What  think  you  of  a  boy 
who  comes  thus  boldly  to  our  table,  and  levies  mail  from 
us  as  if  it  were  his  right  ? ' 

The  dwarf  twisted  and  writhed  about  in  his  seat :  he 
smiled,  as  only  wizards  can  smile,  and  then  he  humbly 
but  wisely  answered,  — 

"  My  lord,  the  lad  is  no  beggar.  The  blood  of  heroes 
flows  in  his  veins.  Kings  are  his  kinsmen.  Great 
deeds  await  his  coming  into  manhood.  Harm  him  not, 
but  have  him  sought  out,  and  brought  again  before  you, 
I  have  read  in  the  stars  that  somehow  the  woof  of  your 
life  is  strangely  interwoven  with  that  of  a  lad  like  this." 

Charlemagne  at  once  ordered  a  dozen  squires  to  follow 
•  he  boy  secretly  to  find  where  he  dwelt,  and  then,  with- 
'it  harming  him,  to  bring  both  him  and  his  mother  to 
:he  castle.  And  then  the  feasting,  which  had  been  s<$ 
strangely  broken  off,  was  begun  again.  And  the  wassa-1 
bowl  went  round,  and  many  a  weak-souled  knight  forgOv 
his  solemn  vows  of  temperance ;  and  the  old  hall  again 
resounded  with  music  and  with  uproarious  mirth ; 
the  boy  Roland  was  for  a  time  forgotten. 


24  The  Story  of  Roland. 

Very  anxiously  did  the  fair  Bertha  in  the  lonely 
hermit  cell  await  the  return  of  her  son  that  day.  He 
had  left  her  in  the  morning,  determined  to  make  himself 
known  to  Charlemagne,  and  to  demand  the  forgiveness 
of  his  mother,  and  her  re-instatement  in  the  king's 
palace.  He  had  promised  to  be  back  very  soon,  with  a 
palfrey  for  his  mother  to  ride  upon,  and  a  company  of 
knights  and  squires  to  escort  her  to  the  castle.  But 
hour  after  hour  had  passed  by ;  and  it  was  now  high 
noon,  and  still  the  boy  did  not  come.  Could  it  be  pos- 
sible that  he  had  been  too  rash,  and  had  been  impris- 
oned, or  otherwise  severely  punished,  for  his  boldness  ? 
Another  hour  went  by  ;  and  Bertha  was  about  to  despair 
of  his  return,  when  Roland  suddenly  appeared  around 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  carrying  on  his  left  arm  a  basket  of 
food  and  in  his  right  hand  a  golden  goblet  of  wine. 

"  Mother,"  he  cried,  as  he  set  his  burden  down  in  the 
doorway  of  the  grotto,  —  "  mother,  I  have  brought  you 
some  share  of  the  feast.  You  shall  not  starve  while 
your  brother,  who  is  no  better  than  you,  eats  and  drinks 
and  has  such  plenty  of  other  luxuries  that  he  knows  not 
what  to  do  with  them." 

Then  he  placed  before  her  the  bread  and  the  wine, 
And  a  delicately  baked  fowl,  and  the  rare  fruits ;  and, 
while  she  ate,  he  told  her  all  thai  had  happened  to  him 
since  he  had  left  her  in  the  morning.  He  had  waited  a 
long  time  about  the  palace  doors,  trying  in  vain  to  be 
allowed  to  see  the  king.  The  guards  said  that  he  was 
sleeping,  and  would  not  be  disturbed.  If  he  could  only 


The  King's  Guest.  25 

have  found  his  friend  Oliver,  all  would  have  been  well 
But  the  page  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  ;  and  a  squire 
whom  he  asked  said  that  he  had  gone  that  morning, 
with  a  company  of  knights  and  dames,  to  Rome,  and 
that  it  would  be  long  ere  he  returned  again  to  Sutri 
At  length,  by  the  merest  chance,  he  had  peeped  in 
through  the  open  door  of  the  banquet  hall,  and  had  seen 
the  king  himself  seated  at  the  table. 

"  I  could  not  bear,"  he  said,  "  to  see  so  great  plenty 
of  all  that  was  good,  and  to  hear  the  mirth  of  the  greedy 
revellers,  and  know  that  you  were  here  in  this  wretched 
cave  without  a  morsel  of  food.  I  walked  right  in  and 
took  the  best,  nor  did  I  regard  that  I  was  robbing  the 
king.  He  talked  to  me,  and  seemed  not  a  bit  angry ; 
and  I  feel  sure  that  he  will  send  for  me  to  come  again 
before  him,  and  then  I  will  tell  him  all." 

"Ah,  Roland,"  said  the  Lady  Bertha  doubtfully, 
"you  do  not  know  your  kingly  uncle.  He  is  hot-tern 
pered  and  violent ;  and  he  may  yet  punish  you  for  your 
rashness,  and  listen  to  no  word  of  explanation  or  excuse. 
Many  an  innocent  man  has  suffered  from  his  unreason- 
ing anger." 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  answered  the  boy.  "  He  was 
altogether  too  jolly  to  be  angry.  And  I  expect,  ere  this 
time  to-morrow,  to  be  installed  as  a  page  to  the  king  or 
to  one  of  his  peers." 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  these  words,  when  the  squires 
who  had  been  sent  in  search  of  him  came  around  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  and  halted  only  a  few  yards  from  the 


26  The  Story  of  Roland. 

entrance  to  the  grotto.  Some  were  on  foot,  some  on 
horseback  ;  and  all  were  armed  with  sticks,  and  more  or 
less  under  the  influence  of  the  strong  ale  which  they 
had  drunk  at  the  banquet.  As  soon  as  they  saw 
Roland,  they  called  out  loudly  to  him,  ordeikg  him  to 
surrender  himself  as  their  prisoner. 

"  Come  along  at  once,  my  little  one,"  cried  the  leader. 
"The  king  wants  you  for  robbing  his  table." 

Had  the  squires  approached  Roland  in  a  respectful 
manner,  he  would  have  gone  with  them  gladly.  But 
their  insolence  maddened  him. 

"  Tell  the  king,"  he  answered,  "  that  I  am  holding 
high  court  at  home  to-day,  and  that,  if  he  wants  me,  he 
must  come  after  me  himself." 

"But  you  must  come  with  us,"  cried  the  squires. 
"  You,  and  your  mother  the  beggar  woman,  must  come 
with  us  to  Sutri,  and  lose  no  time." 

"  Beggar  woman,  indeed!"  cried  Roland,  overflowing 
with  rage.  "  How  dare  you  speak  thus  of  the  sister  oi 
Charlemagne  ?  Go  back  to  the  king,  and  tell  him  that 
his  nephew  is  not  wont  to  do  the  bidding  of  squires  and 
churls.  Tell  him  that  only  by  the  worthiest  of  his 
peers  will  my  mother  and  I  be  taken  into  his  presence." 

At  this  boastful  speech  of  one  whom  they  looked 
upon  as  only  a  beggar,  the  squires  laughed  heartily  ;  and 
one  or  two  of  them  shook  their  sticks  in  a  threatening 
manner,  and  made  as  if  they  would  seize  upon  the  boy. 
Roland  ran  quickly  into  the  grotto,  and  soon  came  out 
again,  bearing  the  long,  broken  lance  in  his  hands.  But 


The  King's  Guest.  27 

it  was  a  heavy  weapon,  and,  as  he  found  it,  an  unwieldy 
one.  The  squires  closed  in  upon  him  from  every  side ; 
and,  as  the  great  length  of  the  lance  prevented  him  from 
turning  it  quickly  enough  to  guard  himself  at  all  pointy 
he  was  obliged  to  drop  it  to  the  ground  In  its  stead, 
he  seized  a  stout  light  club  that  lay  in  his  way,  and  then, 
taking  his  stand  in  the  doorway,  he  dared  his  assailants 
to  come  within  his  reach. 

"  You  shall  see,"  said  he,  "  whether  I  cannot  defend 
my  mother's  castle." 

The  squires,  astonished  at  the  quickness  and  the 
pluck  of  the  boy,  fell  back,  and  began  trying  to  per- 
suade him  to  go  with  them  peaceably.  But  Roland 
stood  warily  in  the  doorway  of  his  castle,  and  answered 
them  only  by  swinging  his  club  in  the  faces  of  the 
nearest,  and  by  withering  glances  of  defiance.  It  is 
uncertain  how  long  this  strange  scene  would  have 
lasted,  or  how  it  would  have  ended,  had  it  not  been 
unexpectedly  interrupted.  A  knight,  unarmed,  and 
mounted  on  a  coal-black  steed,  rode  suddenly  around 
the  hill,  and  reined  up  in  the  midst  of  the  excited  crowd. 
His  long  hair  and  flowing  beard  were  white  with  age , 
and  his  pleasant  face  beamed  with  kindliness,  and  was 
lighted  up  with  lines  of  far-seeing  wisdom. 

"Ha,  my  brave  men!'    he  cried  in  tones  of  meiri 
ment.     "  What  have  we  here  ?     Twelve  gallant  squires 
in  combat  with  a  single  boy !     And  the  boy  holds  his 
castle  against  them  all.     Surely  this  is  chivalry  !    What 
does  it  all  mean  ? " 


28  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"It  means,"  answered  Roland,  "that  these  fellows 
want  to  take  me  by  force  to  the  king  at  Sutri,  and 
they  have  insulted  me  and  my  mother.  Were  they 
knights,  or  even  gentlemen,  I  would  go  with  them ;  but 
they  are  neither.  They  are  mere  churls  and  hangers 
on  about  the  governor's  court,  and  they  know  nought  ol 
honor  and  knightly  courtesy.  It  will  be  long  ere  they 
are  worthy  to  wear  the  golden  spurs." 

The  knight  was  amused  at  the  boy's  earnestness  ;  and 
he  said,  "  I  cannot  blame  you  for  refusing  to  be  taken 
by  them.  Yet  I  know  that  the  king  wishes  very  much 
to  see  you  and  your  good  mother,  and  he  has  sent  me 
to  hasten  your  coming.  I  am  Namon,  Duke  of  Bavaria, 
and  I  am  sometimes  known  as  one  of  Charlemagne's 
peers.  Perhaps  you  will  be  willing  to  go  with  me  if  I 
send  these  squires  away." 

Roland,  without  a  word  of  dissent,  dropped  his  club 
to  the  ground,  and  promised  to  go  with  the  good  knight 
at  once  if  he  would  only  find  some  means  by  which  his 
mother  might  be  helped  to  reach  Sutri  castle  without 
the  fatigue  of  walking  so  far.  Duke  Namon  dismounted 
from  his  steed,  and,  having  sent  the  squires  away,  went 
with  Rcland  into  the  little  cavern.  There  he  was 
welcomed  heartily  by  the  Lady  Bertha,  who  remem- 
bered him  as  a  firm,  kind  friend  in  former  days,  when 
both  were  inmates  of  Charlemagne's  palace  at  Aix. 
And  the  fair  lady  and  the  noble  knight  talked  long 
together  of  things  that  had  happened  since  then  in 
France,  —of  the  gallant  deeds  of  her  brother  the  kingv 


The  King's  Guest.  29 

and  of  his  many  triumphs  at  home  and  abroad ;  of  the 
death  of  the  gallant  Milon,  and  of  the  long  years  of 
wretchedness  and  want  that  had  since  dragged  by. 
And  the  knight  told  her  how  Charlemagne  had  sought 
in  every  land  for  her,  and  had  sent  messengers  beyond 
the  sea  to  inquire  for  her,  in  order  that  he  might  grant 
her  his  forgiveness,  and  make  some  amends  for  his 
former  harshness  But  all  in  vain.  The  messengers 
had  brought  back  >vord  that  Milon  was  dead,  but  they 
could  find  no  traces  of  his  noble  wife  ;  and  Charlemagne 
mourned  her  as  lost.  And  then  Namon  told  her  oi 
Roland's  strange,  daring  deed  in  the  feast  hall  at  Sutri 
castle  that  day,  and  of  the  thoughts  that  he  and  the  king 
had  had  about  the  boy  ;  and  lastly  he  spoke  of  the  king's 
desire  that  she  should  appear  at  once  before  him,  and,  if 
she  were  indeed  the  lost  Princess  Bertha,  she  should  be 
restored  to  her  old  place  in  his  court  and  in  his  affec- 
tions. 

And  towards  evening  the  noble  duke,  with  the  Lady 
Bertha  mounted  behind  him  on  a  pillion,  rode  gayly 
over  the  fields  to  Sutri  ;  while  Roland,  proud  and  happy, 
and  carrying  his  father's  broken  lance  on  his  shoulder, 
Allowed  them  on  foot  Glad,  indeed,  was  the  greeting 
with  which  the  king  welcomed  his  sister;  but  not  a 
word  coald  the  fair  Bertha  speak,  so  overwhelmed  was 
she  with  gratitude.  Roland,  still  wearing  his  livery  oi 
many-colored  rags,  but  holding  himself  erect  and 
haughty  as  a  prince,  raised  his  wondrous  gray  eyes 
antil  they  met  Charlemagne's  gaze, 


3O  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"  Sister,"  said  the  king,  "  for  this  boy's  sake,  if  for 
nought  else,  all  shall  be  forgiven.  Let  the  past  be 
forgotten  in  the  joy  of  the  present  hour." 

"Dear  brother/'  said   fair   Bertha,    "your   kindness 
not  go  unrewarded.     Roland  will  not  disappoint 
He  will  grow  up  to  be,  next  to  you,  the  pattens 
of  all  heroes  and  the  type  of  all  manly  virtues,"  l 

And  the  next  day  a  great  feast  was  held  in  the  ban- 
quet hall  of  Count  Rainier's  castle,  in  honor  of  the  fair 
princess  and  her  gallant  little  son.  And  not  only  the 
bravest  warriors  in  Charlemagne's  service,  but  also 
many  noble  ladies  and  many  knights  from  Rome  and 
the  country  round  about,  sat  down  with  the  king  at  the 
festal  board.  And  this  time  Roland  was  not  an  un 
invited  guest ;  but  he  sat  in  the  place  of  honor  at  the 
king's  right  hand,  while  squires  and  servitors  waited  his 
call,  and  hastened  to  do  his  bidding.  And  Charlemagne 
rested  two  days  longer  at  Sutri  before  proceeding  on 
his  march ;  and  then  he  sent  his  sister,  the  princess, 
with  a  guard  of  trustworthy  knights,  back  to  France 
and  to  the  pleasant  palace  and  halls  of  Aix.  But 
Roland  *vas  made  a  page  in  the  service  of  good  Duke 
Namon ;  and,  when  the  grand  army  moved  on  again 
cowards  Rome,  he  bade  good-by  to  his  humble  friends 
in  Sutri,  and  made  ready  to  go  too.  No  happier, 
prouder  heart  beat  in  Italy  that  day  than  Roland's, 
Dressed  in  a  rich  gown  of  green  velvet  bordered  with 
crimson  and  gold,  and  mounted  on  a  white  palfrey 

1  See  Note  2  at  the  end  of  this  volume. 


The  King's  Guest.  31 

handsomely  harnessed,  he  seemed  not  like  the  bare- 
footed beggar  to  whom  the  boys  of  Sutri  had  been 
wont  to  do  homage.  But  it  needed  not  that  one  should 
look  closely  to  recognize  that  same  noble  form,  those 
wonderful  gray  eyes,  that  proud  but  kind-like  face 
And  he  rode  not  with  the  rout  of  squires  and  soldiers 
and  hangers-on  who  brought  up  the  rear  of  the  army, 
but  by  the  side  of  Duke  Namon,  and  in  company  with 
the  bravest  knights  and  the  peers  of  the  realm. 

All  along  the  road  the  people  of  the  towns,  the  cas- 
tles, and  the  countryside,  crowded  to  see  the  conquer- 
ing hero  ;  and  they  welcomed  him  with  shouts  and  glad 
songs  as  the  guardian  of  Italy  and  the  champion  of  all 
Christendom.  Three  miles  this  side  of  Rome  all  the 
noblest  men  of  the  city  came  out,  with  music  playing 
and  banners  waving,  to  escort  the  grand  army  through 
the  gates.  At  a  mile  from  the  walls  the  children  of 
the  schools  met  them,  bearing  palm  leaves  and  olive 
branches  in  their  hands,  and  strewing  flowers  in  the 
way,  and  singing  hymns  in  honor  of  the  hero  king. 
Charlemagne  had  laid  aside  his  arms  and  his  armor ; 
and,  dressed  in  his  kingly  robes,  he  rode  by  the  side  of 
the  good  Archbishop  Turpin.  His  mantle  was  wrought 
af  the  finest  purple,  bordered  with  gold  and  ermine : 
upon  his  feet  were  sandals  sparkling  with  priceless 
gems ;  upon  his  head  was  a  coronet  of  pearls  and  flash- 
ing jewels.  His  horse  was  harnessed  in  the  most 
goodly  fashion,  with  trappings  of  purpk  daroask  bor 
dered  with  ermine  and  white  cloth-of-gold. 


32  The  Story  of  Roland. 

At  the  gate  of  the  city  the  procession  was  met  by  a 
company  of  priests  and  monks  bearing  the  standard  oi 
the  cross,  which  was  never  taken  out  save  on  the  most 
solemn  and  magnificent  occasions.  When  Charlemagne 
saw  the  cross,  he  and  his  peers  alighted  from  their 
horses,  and  went  humbly  on  foot  to  the  steps  of  St. 
Peter's  Church.  There  he  was  met  by  the  Pope,  the 
bishops,  and  a  great  retinue  of  priests  and  monktS, 
dressed  in  their  richest  vestments,  who  welcomed  him 
to  Rome,  and  blessed  him.  And  on  every  side,  in  the 
streets  and  in  the  church,  loud  shouts  rent  the  air,  and 
the  people  joined  in  singing  the  chant,  "  Blessed  is  he 
that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

The  boy  Roland,  having  never  seen  such  grandeur, 
was  filled  with  wonder  and  astonishment.  "Surely," 
said  he,  "  this  is  the  happy  vale  of  paradise,  of  which 
my  mother  has  so  often  told  me,  where  every  Christian 
knight  hopes  one  day  to  find  a  home." 

"  It  is  not  that  vale,"  answered  good  Duke  Namon  ; 
"but  it  is  the  beginning  of  the  road  which  leads 
thither." ' 

Not  many  days  did  Charlemagne  remain  at  Rome 
Messengers  came  to  him  from  France,  who  said  that 
the  Saxons  and  other  Pagan  folk  had  crossed  the  Rhine, 
and  were  carrying  fire  and  sword  into  the  fairest  por- 
tions of  the  land ;  and  they  begged  him  to  hasten  his 
return  to  his  own  country,  that  he  might  protect  his 
people  from  the  ravages  of  their  barbarous  foes.  So, 

Note  3  at  the  end  of  this  ?ohti»R. 


The  King's  Guest.  33 

having  received  the  homage  and  the  blessing  of  the 
Pope,  and  having  been  crowned  with  the  iron  crown  oi 
the  Lombards,  he  marshalled  all  his  forces,  and  set  out 
on  his  journey  back  to  France.  And  late  that  same 
autumn,  Roland  saw  for  the  first  time  the  noble  city  ol 
Aix,  and  was  formally  installed  as  page  in  Duke  Namon's 
household 


34  The  Story  of  Rolana. 


ADVENTURE  III. 


THE   WAR   WITH   THE   SAXONS. 

A  STORMY  winter  had  set  in.  It  was  unlike  any  thing 
that  Roland  had  ever  seen  in  his  sunny  southern  home; 
and  he  was  scarcely  more  astonished  by  the  grandeur  oi 
Charlemagne's  court  than  by  this  wonderful  war  of  the 
elements.  The  bleak  north  winds,  like  so  many  giants 
let  loose,  came  roaring  through  the  forests,  and  shriek- 
ing among  the  house-tops  and  the  castle  towers,  carrying 
blinding  tempests  of  sleet  and  snow  in  their  arms,  and 
hurling  them  angrily  to  the  ground.  The  rivers  were 
frozen  over ;  the  roads  were  blockaded ;  there  was  little 
communication  between  Aix  and  other  parts  of  Charle 
magne's  dominions.  The  main  part  of  the  army  was 
still  in  Southern  France,  and  there  it  was  ordered  to 
§tay  until  the  opening  of  spring  should  make  it  possi 
ble  to  advance  against  the  Saxons. 

Very  pleasant  to  Roland  was  his  first  winter  at 
Charlemagne's  court.  Within  the  palace  halls  there 
were  comfort  and  good  cheer  ;  the  fires  blazed  high  and 
warm  in  the  great  chimney  places  ;  there  was  much 
music  and  meny-making; ;  and  for  Roland  there  wer«* 


The   War  with  the  Saxons.  35 

many  agreeable  duties.  Much  of  his  time  was  spent  in 
the  service  of  the  ladies  at  court,  and  especially  of  the 
Duchess  Blanchefleur,  the  wife  of  good  Duke  Namon, 
And  he  was  instructed  in  the  first  duties  of  the  true 
knight,  —  to  reverence  God,  and  honor  the  king ;  to 
speak  the  truth  at  all  times;  to  deal  justly  with  both 
[riend  and  foe ;  to  be  courteous  and  obliging  to  his 
equals  ;  to  be  large-hearted  and  kind  to  those  beneath 
him  in  rank  ;  and,  above  all,  to  help  the  needy,  to  pro- 
tect the  weak,  and  to  respect  and  venerate  the  ladies. 
Some  time,  too,  he  spent  in  the  company  of  his  lord, 
Duke  Namon.  He  waited  on  him  at  table,  he  poured 
out  his  wine,  he  carried  his  messages  ;  and  much  wis- 
dom did  he  learn,  listening  to  the  words  that  fell  from 
the  lips  of  the  sage  counsellor.  He  became  acquainted, 
too,  with  the  officers  of  the  court,  and  with  the  squires 
and  grooms  about  the  palace.  And  he  learned  how  to 
manage  horses,  and  how  to  mount  and  ride  a  high- 
mettled  steed.  He  was  taught  how  to  hold  a  lance  with 
ease,  how  to  handle  the  broadsword  dexterously,  and 
how  to  draw  the  longbow,  and  shoot  with  sharp-sighted 
skill.  When  the  weather  was  fine,  and  the  snow  not 
too  deep  on  the  ground,  he  often  rode  out  with  his  mas- 
ter and  other  knights  to  hunt  the  deer  and  wild  boars 
in  the  forest.  And  he  learned  all  about  the  training 
and  care  of  falcons  and  merlins  and  hunting-hounds, 
and  how  to  follow  the  game  in  the  wildwood,  and  how 
to  meet  the  charge  of  a  wounded  buck  or  a  maddened 
boar.  Sometimes,  during  the  long  winter  evenings,  he 


30  7*ke  Story  of  Roland. 

sat  in  the  school  of  the  palace  with  Charlemagne  and 
the  members  of  the  family,  and  listened  to  the  wise  in 
structions  of  Alcuin,  the  English  schoolmaster.  And 
he  learned  to  read  in  the  few  Latin  books  that  were 
treasured  with  great  care  in  the  scriptorium^  or  writing- 
room,  of  the  palace ;  and  sometimes,  under  the  direction 
of  the  schoolmaster,  he  tried  to  copy  the  beautiful  letters 
of  some  old-time  manuscript.  At  other  times  he  sat 
with  the  knights  and  the  squires  in  the  low-raftered 
feast-hall,  and  listened  to  the  music  and  the  song-stories 
of  some  wandering  harper. 

And  thus  the  winter  months  sped  swiftly  by ;  and  as 
the  days  began  to  grow  longer  and  warmer,  and  the 
snow  melted  from  the  ground,  and  the  ice  thawed  in 
the  rivers,  Charlemagne  thought  it  time  to  make  ready 
for  the  long-deferred  campaign  against  the  Saxons. 
Messengers  were  sent  out  in  every  direction  to  summon 
every  true  knight  and  every  loyal  fighting  man  to  join 
the  king's  standard  at  Aix  ;  and  it  was  expected,  that,  by 
the  time  of  the  Easter  festival,  a  hundred  thousand  war- 
riors would  be  there,  ready  to  march  against  the  Pagan 
folk  of  the  North.  About  the  king's  castle  many  busy 
preparations  were  going  on.  Some  were  furbishing  up 
their  arms,  or  mending  their  old  armor ;  others  were 
providing  new  weapons  for  themselves,  or  new  harness 
for  their  steeds ;  knights,  squires,  pages,  and  grooms, 
all  found  enough  to  do,  and  all  looked  forward  with 
eager  impatience  to  the  day  that  was  set  foi  the  march. 
In  the  smithies  the  bellows  roared  and  the  fires  glowed ; 


The   War  with  the  Saxons.  37 

and  smiths  and  armorers  worked  day  and  night,  forging 
swords  and  spear  points,  and  riveting  armor  plates  and 
rings  of  mail.  And  even  in  the  kitchens  there  was  an 
unwonted  hurrying  to  and  fro,  and  the  sound  of  busy 
voices  and  busier  hands  ;  while  in  the  halls  and  the 
ca*} tie-chambers  many  a  brave-hearted  lady  sat  stitching 
and  embroidering  rich  garments  for  her  lord. 

The  time  of  the  Easter  festival  came  at  last.  Grass 
?vas  springing  fresh  and  green  in  the  meadows.  The 
trees  were  putting  forth  their  leaves.  In  the  wildwood 
the  voice  of  the  cuckoo  and  the  song  of  the  warbler 
were  heard.  The  ice  had  disappeared  from  the  river, 
and  the  snow  had  melted  in  the  valleys :  the  roads  were 
once  more  passable.  It  seemed  a  fitting  time  for  the 
beginning  of  new  schemes  and  of  bold  undertakings. 
And  early  one  April  morning  the  great  army,  with 
Charlemagne  and  his  peers  at  its  head,  filed  out  of  the 
city,  and  began  its  march  toward  the  Rhine.  And 
Roland,  proud  and  happy  as  a  knight  with  spurs,  was 
allowed  to  ride  in  the  train  of  Duke  Namon. 

When  the  Saxons  heard  of  the  coming  of  the  Franks, 
they  hastily  crossed  again  into  their  own  country,  and 
shut  themselves  up  in  their  towns  and  strongholds.  But 
Charlemagne  followed  them  without  delay ;  nor  did  the 
wide,  deep  Rhine  hinder  him  long.  Through  all  their 
land  he  carried  fire  and  sword;  nor  did  he  spare  any 
one  through  pity.  For  he  was  a  Christian  :  while  the 
Saxons  were  Pagans,  and  worshipped  Thor  and  Odin ; 
and  many  of  them  had  never  heard  of  the  true  God 


38  '1/u  biory  of  Roland. 


It  is  said,  that,  a  little  while  before  this  time,  an  Eng- 
lish priest  named  St.  Liebwin  had  gone  alone  into 
the  very  heart  of  Saxony  for  the  purpose  of  carrying 
the  gospel  of  Christ  to  that  benighted  folk.  Boldly  he 
stood  up  before  them  when  they  came  to  worship  in 
their  false  temples,  and,  holding  the  cross  in  his  hands^ 
he  upbraided  them. 

"  What  do  ye  ? "  he  said.  "  The  gods  that  ye  worship 
live  not,  they  understand  not,  they  see  not.  They  are 
the  works  of  your  hands.  They  can  help  neither  you 
nor  themselves.  Wherefore,  the  only  true  and  good 
God,  having  pity  on  you,  has  sent  me  unto  you  to  warn 
you  of  the  trouble  which  shall  come  upon  you  unless  ye 
put  away  your  false  gods.  A  prince,  wise,  strong,  and 
unsleeping,  shall  come  among  you,  and  he  shall  fall  upon 
you  like  a  torrent.  At  one  rush  he  shall  invade  your 
country ;  and  he  shall  lay  it  waste  with  fire  and  sword, 
and  spare  none." 

Great  was  the  anger  of  the  Pagan  folk  when  they 
heard  this  bold  speech  of  St.  Liebwiru  Some  threa- 
tened to  tear  him  to  pieces  in  front  of  their  temples : 
others  ran  in  haste  to  the  woods,  and  began  to  cut 
sharpened  stakes  with  which  to  slay  him.  But  one, 
more  wise  than  the  rest,  a  chief  named  Buto,  stood  up 
before  them,  and  cried  out,  "  Do  not  act  rashly  in  this 
matter  !  It  is  against  our  laws,  and  contrary  to  our 
custom,  to  mistreat  or  abuse  ambassadors.  We  have 
always  received  them  kindly,  hearkened  to  their  mes- 
sages, and  sent  them  away  with  presents.  Here  is  an 


The   War  with  the  Saxons.  39 

ambassador  from  a  great  God;  and  should  we  slay 
him  ? " 

The  words  of  the  chief  softened  the  anger  of  the 
Saxons,  and  they  allowed  St.  Liebwin  to  return  un- 
harmed across  the  Rhine.  But  they  still  clung  to  theii 
false  gods,  and  thought  no  more  of  his  warning  until 
after  Charlemagne  had  overrun  their  country,  and  car« 
ried  dire  distress  among  them. 

Among  the  places  which  fell  into  the  hands  of  the. 
French  was  the  stronghold  of  Ehresburg,  near  which 
was  a  temple  of  the  Saxons,  —  a  spacious  building,  wide 
and  high,  and  ornamented  with  thousands  of  trophies 
taken  in  battle.  In  the  midst  of  this  temple  stood  a 
marble  column  on  which  was  the  figure  of  an  armed 
warrior  holding  in  one  hand  a  banner,  and  in  the  other 
a  balance.  On  the  breastplate  of  the  figure  was  en- 
graven a  bear ;  and  on  the  shield  which  hung  from  his 
shoulders  was  painted  a  lion  in  a  field  full  of  flowers, 
This  figure  was  the  idol  known  in  history  as  Irmin,  and 
was  the  image  of  the  war-god  of  the  Saxons.  Charle- 
magne caused  the  temple  of  Irmin  to  be  torn  down  and 
destroyed,  and  he  buried  the  idol  and  its  column  deej. 
in  the  earth.  But  so  great  was  the  building,  and  so 
large  was  the  image,  that  the  whole  army  was  employed 
three  days  in  their  destruction. 

By  this  time  midsummer  had  come.  The  sun  shone 
hot  and  fierce  in  a  cloudless  sky.  There  had  been  no 
rain  since  the  early  spring,  and  the  ground  was  parched 
and  dry.  There  was  no  water  in  the  brooks ;  the 


40  Tke  Story  of  Roland. 

springs  ceased  flowing ;  and  ere  long  the  river  itself 
became  dry.  The  leaves  of  the  trees  withered  for  want 
of  moisture ;  the  grain  would  not  ripen  in  the  fields ; 
the  meadows  and  pastures  were  burned  up  with  the  heat 
Mid  the  long  drought.  Warriors  who  had  never  turned 
their  backs  upon  a  foe  trembled  now  at  the  thought  of 
death  from  thirst  and  starvation.  Horrible  indeed  was 
the  fate  which  threatened  the  French  army,  and  Char- 
lemagne ordered  a  quick  retreat  towards  the  river 
Rhine,  Yet  both  men  and  horses  were  weak  with  fast- 
ing, and  exhausted  by  the  oppressive  heat;  and  the 
march  was  slow  and  painful  They  reached  the  dry 
bed  of  an  unknown  stream,  and  could  go  no  farther. 
The  soldiers  groped  among  the  rocks,  and  tried  in  vain 
to  find  some  trace  of  moisture  in  the  sand.  Every 
mind  was  burdened  with  despair.  Not  one  among  the 
knights  but  that  would  have  given  his  richest  fief  for  a 
drink  of  cold  water. 

All  at  once  a  storm  cloud  was  seen  in  the  south. 
Rapidly  it  rose  higher  and  higher  above  the  horizon. 
The  lightnings  flashed ;  the  roar  of  distant  falling  rain 
was  heard.  A  great  hoarse  shout  went  up  from  the 
parched  throats  of  ten  thousand  warriors.  They  were 
saved.  Soon  the  bed  of  the  river  was  filled  with  a  tor- 
rent of  rushing,  foaming  water ;  and  men  and  beasts 
hastened  to  quench  their  thirst  And  good  Archbishop 
Turpin,  taking  the  crucifix  in  his  hand,  stood  up  before 
the  host,  and  thanked  Heaven  for  this  timely  deliver- 
ance. And  all  joined  in  sr1— — *ly  singing  praises  ts 


The   War  with  the  Saxons.  41 

God ;  and  all  devoutly  believed  that  they  had  been  thus 
blessed  because  they  had  overthrown  the  idol  of  Irmin, 
and  destroyed  his  temple.  The  very  same  day  the  Sax- 
ons sent  to  Charlemagne  begging  for  peace,  and  offer- 
ing to  do  him  homage,  and  pay  him  tribute.  And  the 
king  took  hostages  from  them  from  among  the  noblest 
families  in  the  land,  and  then  recrossed  the  Rhine  into 
his  own  country.1 

1  S«e  Note  4  at  the  end  of  this 


42  T/ie  Story  of  Roland. 


ADVENTURE  IV. 


THE  KNIGHT   OF  THE   SWAN. 

ONE  day  Roland  stood  at  the  window  of  a  castle  over 
looking  the  Rhine,  while  Charlemagne  and  Duke  Namon 
sat  on  the  balcony  outside,  enjoying  the  pleasant  breeze 
that  was  wafted  to  them  from  the  not  far-distant  sea. 
All  at  once  the  clear-ringing  sound  of  a  bell  reached 
their  ears.  At  first  it  seemed  far  away ;  but  it  came 
slowly  nearer  and  nearer,  until  the  whole  air  seemed 
filled  with  the  sweet,  simple  music.  By  this  time  all 
eyes  in  the  castle  were  turned  in  the  direction  whence 
the  sounds  seemed  to  come.  The  windows  and  doors, 
the  battlements  and  the  towers,  were  crowded  with 
knights  and  ladies,  squires,  pages,  and  menials,  all 
charmed  by  the  sweet  tones,  and  all  anxious  to  know  by 
what  strange  power  they  were  produced. 

"What  seest  thou  down  the  river?"  asked  the  king 
of  the  watchman  on  the  tower. 

"  My  lord,"  answered  the  watchman,  "  I  see  nothing 
save  the  waving  of  the  reeds  in  the  wind,  and  the  long 
ripple  of  the  waves  on  the  shelving  banks." 

Still  louder  and  clearer  rang  the  bell ;  still  nearer  and 


me  Knight  of  the  Swan.  43 

nearer  it  seemed  to  come.  All  Nature  appeared  to  be 
listening. 

"  Watchman,"  cried  the  king  again,  "  seest  thou  yet 
any  thing  ? ' 

"  I  see,"  answered  the  watchman,  "  a  mist,  like  a  little 
silver  cloud,  resting  upon  the  water,  and  coming  slowly 
toward  us.  But  I  cannot  distinguish  aught  else 

Sweeter  and  sweeter  grew  the  sounds,  like  the  music 
of  angel  voices  in  the  air.  The  hearts  of  the  listeners 
stood  still ;  they  held  their  breath  ;  they  feared  to  break 
the  wondrous  spell. 

"Watchman,"  cried  the  king,  "what  seest  thou 
now  ? " 

"  My  lord,"  answered  now  the  watchman,  "  I  see  a 
white  swan  floating  on  the  water  ;  and  on  its  neck  there 
is  a  crown  of  gold  ;  and  behind  it  is  a  silver  boat  made 
like  the  shell  of  a  scallop,  which  it  draws  by  a  silken 
cord ;  and  in  the  scallop  sits  a  knight  in  full  armor. 
But  the  device  on  his  shield  is  a  strange  one,  and  I  can- 
not tell  from  what  land  he  comes.  In  the  bow  of  the 
boat  hangs  a  little  bell ;  but  I  know  not  whether  the 
sound  which  so  ravishes  our  ears  is  made  by  its  ringing, 
or  whether  it  is  the  song  of  the  swan." 

And  now  the  swan  and  the  strange  little  boat  were 
plainly  seen  by  all  the  inmates  of  the  castle.  Slowly 
they  drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  quay.  At  last  the 
boat  came  alongside  of  the  landing  place,  and  stopped. 
The  music,  too,  ceased  as  soon  as  the  swan  left  off  row- 
ing. Then  certain  of  the  king's  men  stepped  down  to 


44  The  Story  of  Roland. 

the  water-side ;  and  one  whose  name  was  Nibelung,  and 
who  had  come  from  the  unknown  Northland,  gave  the 
stranger  his  hand,  and  helped  him  from  the  scallop. 
And  the  swan  turned  about,  and  swam  away  in  the 
direction  whence  he  had  come,  drawing  the  empty  shell- 
boat  behind  him.  And  the  strange,  sweet  music,  which 
began  again  as  soon  as  the  swan  commenced  rowing, 
grew  fainter  and  still  more  faint,  until  at  last  it  died 
away  in  the  far  distance,  and  was  never  heard  again. 

The  strange  knight,  who  was  ever  afterward  known 
as  the  Knight  of  the  Swan,  was  led  into  the  presence 
of  the  king.  But  he  spoke  not  a  word  to  any  one ;  and 
although  he  seemed  right  nobly  bred,  and  courteous, 
it  was  soon  plain  to  all  that  he  was  quite  dumb.  Before 
the  king  there  stood  warriors  from  every  land,  —  French- 
men, Italians,  Greeks,  Persians,  Goths,  Saxons,  and 
Danes  ;  and  he  commanded  each  of  these  to  speak  in 
his  own  tongue  to  the  stranger.  But  the  Knight  of  the 
Swan  answered  not  a  word,  nor  seemed  to  understand 
what  they  said  to  him.  Then  Roland  saw  that  a  blue 
ribbon  was  tied  around  the  stranger's  neck,  and  that  to 
it  was  fastened  a  small  roll  of  parchment. 

"  My  lord,"  said  he  to  the  king,  "perhaps  this  roll  will 
tell  who  he  is,  and  why  he  comes  in  this  strange  manner 
to  you." 

"Take  the  parchment,"  said  the  king,  "and  sec  if 
any  thing  is  written  thereon." 

And  Roland  unloosed  the  ribbon  from  the  stranger's 
neck,  and  opened  the  roll,  and  read  these  words 


The  Kmgkt  of  the  Swan.  45 

NAME  is  GERARD  SWAN,  OF  THE  RACE  OF  LOHENGRIN. 

I    SEEK    A    HOME    WITH    YOU,    AND     A    WIFE,    AND    A    FIEF 


OF    LANDS.' 


"  Right  welcome  are  you,  Sir  Gerard  of  the  Swan  !  " 
said  the  king,  taking  his  hand.  "  You  shall  have  all 
for  which  you  have  come,  and  much  more." 

Then  Nibelung,  by  the  king's  command,  unarmed  the 
knight,  and  carried  his  sword  and  shield  and  rich  armor 
to  the  guard  room.  And  the  clothing  which  the  stranger 
wore  beneath  his  armor  was  of  the  most  princely  kind,  — 
of  purple  velvet  embroidered  with  gold.  And  he  had 
upon  his  hand  a  ring  of  curious  workmanship,  in  which 
was  set  a  cross  that  glittered  like  the  rays  of  the  sun. 
And  the  king  took  off  his  own  mantle  of  crimson  silk 
and  rich  ermine,  and  threw  it  over  the  knight's  shoulders. 

And  a  banquet  was  held  that  day  in  token  of  rejoic- 
ing for  the  victories  so  lately  won ;  and  the  Knight  of 
the  Swan  sat  at  the  right  hand  of  the  king. 

"Why  does  my  uncle  show  so  great  honor  to  a 
stranger  ? "  asked  Roland  afterward. 

"  He  is  a  godsend,"  said  Duke  Namon.  "  Wherever 
he  is,  there  will  Heaven's  favor  be  ;  and  whatever  cause 
he  may  espouse,  it  will  prosper." 

"He  looks,  indeed,  like  a  strong-hearted  knight," 
thought  Roland. 

Not  many  days  after  this,  Charlemagne  and  his  war- 
riors returned  to  Aix.  And  the  Knight  of  the  Swan 
proved  himself  to  be  in  all  things  upright  and  trust- 


4.6  The  Story  of  Roland. 

worthy.  He  soon  learned  to  talk ;  and,  next  to  Duke 
Namon,  he  was  long  looked  up  to  as  the  ablest  of  the 
king's  advisers,  And  so  highly  did  Charlemagne  esteem 
him,  chat  he  gave  him  his  sister,  the  Princess  Adalis,  ID 
marriage,  and  made  him  Duke  of  Ardennes.  But  no 
man  durst  ever  ask  him  whence  he  came,  or  to  what 
race  he  belonged.1 

Note  5  at  the  ®»d  of  this 


tfie  JJane.  47 


ADVENTURE    V. 


OGIER   THE   DANE. 

ON  the  day  that  Roland  was  fourteen  years  old,  he 
was  allowed  to  lay  aside  his  page's  dress,  and  don  the 
garb  of  a  squire.  Very  proud  was  he  of  this  new  honor, 
and  faithfully  did  he  try  to  merit  it.  He  was  now  no 
longer  a  boy,  whose  chief  duties  were  to  serve  the  ladies 
of  the  household,  and  to  wait  on  his  master  at  table. 
He  was  regarded  as  a  youth  perfecting  himself  in  the 
use  of  arms,  and  making  himself  ready  for  the  active 
business  of  knighthood.  He  learned  now  to  handle  all 
kinds  of  weapons,  and  very  expert  did  he  become  in 
the  use  of  the  sword  and  the  heavy  lance.  He  prac 
tised  himself  in  every  manly  art,  and  learned  to  endure 
every  sort  of  hardship.  And  there  was  no  one  in 
Charlemagne's  court,  nor,  indeed,  in  all  France,  who 
could  excel  him  in  the  feats  of  skill  and  strength 
in  which  the  young  men  of  those  days  prided  them 
selves. 

About  this  time  there  came  to  dwell  in  the  house- 
hold of  Duke  Namon  a  youth,  some  three  years  older 
than  Roland,  xiamed  Ogier.  He  was  a  Dane,  and  had 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


come  to  France  as  a  hostage.  Very  tall  he  was,  and 
straight  as  a  mountain  pine  ;  and  men  said  that  a  hand 
somer  youth  had  never  been  seen.  His  father  was  God 
frey,  king  of  Denmark,  known  everywhere  as  one  of  the 
bravest  and  most  daring  of  the  Northmen  :  he  lived  in 
a  strong-built  castle  on  the  shore  of  the  sea,  and  had 
long  boasted  that  he  acknowledged  no  man  as  his  peer, 
not  even  the  mighty  Charlemagne  of  France.  Many 
years  had  Godfrey  ruled  over  the  rude  and  danger-loving 
people  of  Denmark  ;  and  the  swift-sailing  dragon  ships 
of  the  jarls  and  vikings  who  owned  him  as  their  master 
were  known  and  feared  in  every  sea  and  on  every  coast, 
from  Jutland  to  Cornwall  and  Finisterre.  And  it  was 
whispered  that  the  Danish  king  had  even  hoped  to  rival 
Charlemagne  in  power,  and  that  he  had  dreamed  of 
making  himself,  some  day,  the  master  of  all  Europe. 

And  this  is  the  story  that  men  tell  of  the  childhood 
of  Ogier.  When  he  was  but  a  babe  in  his  mother's 
arms,  there  was  heard  one  day,  in  his  father's  castle,  the 
sweetest  music  that  mortals  ever  listened  to.  Nobody 
knew  whence  the  bewitching  sounds  came  ;  for  they 
seemed  to  be  now  here,  now  there  :  yet  every  one  was 
charmed  with  the  delightful  melody,  and  declared  that 
only  angels  could  make  music  so  heavenly.  Then  sud- 
denly there  came  into  the  chamber  where  Ogier  lay  six 
fairies,  whose  beauty  was  so  wonderful  and  awful,  that 
none  but  a  babe  might  gaze  upon  them  without  fear, 
And  each  of  the  lovely  creatures  bore  in  her  hands  a 
garland  of  the  rarest  flowers,  and  rich  gifts  of  gold  and 


Ogier  the  Dane.  49 

gems.  And  the  first  fairy  took  the  child  in  her  arms, 
and  kissed  him,  and  said,  — 

"  Better  than  kingly  crown,  or  lands,  or  rich  heritage, 
fair  babe,  I  give  thee  a  brave,  strong  heart.  Be  fearless 
as  the  eagle,  and  bold  as  the  lion ;  be  the  bravest 
knight  among  men." 

Then  the  second  fairy  took  the  child,  aud  dandled 
him  fondly  on  her  knees,  and  looked  long  and  lovingly 
into  his  clear  gray  eyes. 

"What  is  genius  without  opportunity?"  said  she. 
"  What  is  a  brave  heart  without  the  ability  to  do  brave 
deeds  ?  I  give  to  thee  many  an  opportunity  for  manly 
action." 

The  third  fairy  laid  the  dimpled  hands  of  the  babe 
in  her  own  white  palm,  and  stroked  softly  his  golden 
hair. 

"  Strong-hearted  boy,  for  whom  so  many  noble  deeds 
are  waiting,  I,  too,  will  give  thee  a  boon.  My  gift  is 
skill  and  strength  such  as  shall  never  fail  thee  in  fight, 
nor  allow  thee  to  be  beaten  by  a  foe.  Success  to  thee, 
fair  Ogier ! " 

The  fourth  fairy  touched  tenderly  the  mouth  and  the 
eyes  and  the  noble  brow  of  the  babe. 

**  Be  fair  of  speech,"  said  she,  "  be  noble  in  action, 
be  courteous,  be  kind :  these  are  the  gifts  I  bring 
thee.  For  what  will  a  strong  heart,  or  a  bold  under- 
taking, or  success  in  every  enterprise,  avail,  unless  one 
has  the  respect  and  the  love  of  one's  fellow-men  ? ' 

Then  the  fifth  fairy  came  forward,  and  clasped  Ogie/ 


50  The  Story  of  Roland. 

in  her  arms,  and  held  him  a  long  time  quietly,  without 
speaking  a  word.  At  last  she  said,  — 

"The  gifts  which  my  sisters  have  given  thee  wili 
icarcely  bring  thee  happiness  ;  for,  while  they  add  to  thy 
aonor,  they  may  make  thee  dangerous  to  others.  They 
uiay  lead  thee  into  the  practice  of  selfishness,  and  bast 
acts  of  tyranny.  That  man  is  little  to  be  envied  who 
loves  not  his  fellow-men.  The  boon,  therefore,  that  I 
bring  thee  is  the  power  and  the  will  to  esteem  others  as 
frail  mortals  equally  deserving  with  thyself." 

And  then  the  sixth  fairy,  the  youngest  and  the  most 
beautiful  of  all,  who  was  none  other  than  Morgan  le 
Fay,  the  Queen  of  Avalon,  caught  up  the  child,  and 
danced  about  the  room  in  rapturous  joy.  And,  in  tones 
more  musical  than  mortals  often  hear,  she  sung  a  sweet 
lullaby,  a  song  of  fairyland  and  of  the  island  vale  of 
Avalon,  where  the  souls  of  heroes  dwell. 

And,  when  she  had  finished  singing,  Morgan  le  Fay 
crowned  the  babe  with  a  wreath  of  laurel  and  gold,  and 
lighted  a  fairy  torch  that  she  held  in  her  hand.  "  This 
torch,"  said  she,  "  is  the  measure  of  thy  earthly  days  ; 
and  it  shall  not  cease  to  burn  until  thou  hast  visited  rae 
hi  Avalon,  and  sat  at  table  with  King  Arthur  and  the 
heroes  who  dwell  there  in  that  eternal  summer-land." 

Then  the  fairies  gave  the  babe  gently  back  into  his 
mother's  arms,  and  they  strewed  the  floor  of  the  cham- 
ber with  many  a  rich  gem  and  lovely  flower ;  and  the 
odor  of  roses  and  the  sweetest  perfumes  filled  the  air, 
and  the  music  of  angels'  voices  was  heard  above ;  and 


Ogter  the  Dane,  51 

the  fairies  vanished  in  a  burst  of  sunbeams,  and  were 
seen  no  more.  And  when  the  queen's  maidens  came 
soon  afterward  into  the  chamber,  they  found  the  child 
smiling  in  his  mother's  arms.  But  she  was  cold  and 
lifeless  :  her  spirit  had  flown  away  to  fairyland,, 

And  Ogier,  though  left  thus  motherless,  was  carefully 
tended  and  reared,  and  became,  not  only  the  pet  of  the 
king's  household,  but  the  hope  of  all  Denmark.  The 
wisest  men  were  lured  from  other  lands,  and  employed 
as  teachers  of  the  young  prince ;  and  he  was  instructed 
in  all  the  arts,  and  in  all  the  learning,  of  the  times. 
And  he  grew  to  b<*  a  strong  and  handsome  youth,  tali 
and  comely,  and  skilful  in  every  manly  exercise.  No 
knight  in  all  his  father's  domains  could  ride  so  well  as 
he ;  none  could  wield  the  sword  with  greater  skill,  or 
handle  the  lance  more  easily ;  and  no  one  was  more 
courteous,  more  kind  to  his  friends,  more  terrible  to  his 
foes,  than  Ogier.  And  the  Danes  looked  forward  with 
secret  pleasure  to  the  time  when  he  should  become  their 
king.  But  he  had  scarcely  passed  the  years  of  a  page 
and  been  made  a  squire  in  his  father's  household,  when 
ihere  came  a  great  change  to  him,  and  his  life's  outlook 
was  sadly  altered.  His  father  had  married  a  scheming, 
heartless  woman,  who  hated  Ogier,  and  who  sought  to 
drive  him  away  from  Denmark  in  order  that  her  own 
son,  Guyon,  might  be  the  heir  to  the  kingdom.  And  she 
daily  poisoned  the  king's  mind  by  persuading  him  that 
Ogier  was  plotting  against  him,  and  planning  to  seize 


52  The  Story  of  Roland. 

his  kingdom.  And  King  Godfrey,  when  he  saw  with 
what  favor  the  people  looked  upon  his  son,  grew  strange* 
ly  jealous  and  cold,  and  treated  him  harshly  and  oft- 
times  cruelly.  But  Ogier,  nothing  daunted  by  ill  fortune, 
or  by  the  frowns  of  his  father,  or  by  the  taunts  of  his 
evil-minded  step-mother,  held  on  his  way,  and  allowed 
neither  malice  nor  despair  to  interfere  with  his  happi- 
ness, or  to  make  him  forgetful  of  his  duties, 

At  about  the  time  when  Ogier  was  sixteen  years  old, 
the  news  first  came  to  Charlemagne  of  the  greatness  of 
the  Danish  king,  and  of  his  project  to  set  up  a  rival 
kingdom  in  the  North.  And  he  vowed  that  the  Danes 
too,  as  all  the  neighboring  nations  had  already  done, 
should  acknowledge  him  their  sovereign  lord,  and  pay 
him  tribute.  He  sent,  therefore,  an  embassy  of  a  hun- 
dred knights,  under  Ganelon  of  Mayence,  to  demand  of 
King  Godfrey  a  promise  of  homage  and  fealty,  as  the 
holder  of  a  fief  from  France.  King  Godfrey  received 
the  messengers  kindly,  and  entertained  them  in  the 
most  kingly  manner  for  seven  days.  And,  when  they 
had  told  him  their  errand,  he  led  them  through  the  dif- 
ferent apartments  of  his  strong  castle,  and  showed  them 
the  well-built  walls,  and  the  variety  of  weapons,  and  the 
great  store  of  provisions,  that  he  had  laid  in,  in  readi- 
ness against  a  siege.  And  he  said,  "  Tell  Charlemagne 
that  there  are  a  hundred  such  castles  in  Denmark,  and 
that  not  one  has  ever  been  surprised  or  taken  by  a 
foe." 

Then  he  caused  to  pass  before  them  the  flower  of  his 


Ogier  the  Dane.  53 

army,  —  ten  thousand  knights,  clad  in  complete  armor, 
and  mounted  on  matchless  steeds  of  war. 

"Tell  Charlemagne,"  said  he,  "that  what  you  have 
seen  is  but  a  small  part  of  my  strength,  and  that,  if  he 
wishes  to  fight  for  the  mastership,  I  am  ready  to  meet 
him." 

"  On  what  conditions  ? "  asked  Ganelon.  "  You  would 
best  make  them  liberal,  for  Charlemagne  seldom  grants, 
and  never  asks  terms." 

"  On  these  conditions,"  answered  the  king,  —  "  that 
the  vanquished  shall  embrace  the  religion  of  the  victor, 
and  become  his  vassal." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Ganelon.  "  I  will  carry  your 
answer  to  Charlemagne." 

Then  the  king  gave  rich  presents  to  the  messengers, 
and  sent  them  back  again  into  their  own  country. 

When  Charlemagne  heard  the  boastful  message  that 
was  brought  to  him  by  Ganelon,  he  at  once  called  to- 
gether an  army  of  fifty  thousand  men,  and  marched 
northward  to  chastise  the  audacious  Dane.  A  great 
battle  was  fought,  and  King  Godfrey  was  terribly  de- 
feated. The  ten  thousand  knights,  of  whose  bravery 
he  had  boasted,  were  found  to  be  no  match  for  the 
better  trained  and  more  skilful  warriors  of  France. 
The  Eanish  army  was  routed,  and  the  king  himself 
was  taken  prisoner. 

"  What  now  sayest  thou  about  the  mastership  ? "  asked 
Charlemagne  in  great  anger*  "  What  now  wilt  thou 
give  for  thy  life  ? ' 


54  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"  I  will  abide  by  the  conditions  on  which  I  at  first 
offered  to  fight  you,"  answered  Godfrey.  "  I  will  be- 
come a  Christian,  and  be  your  vassal ;  and,  if  I  may 
hold  the  fief  of  Denmark,  I  will  pay  you  a  yearly  tribute 
of  whatever  sum  you  may  demand/1 
\  Then  Charlemagne,  who  was  ever  lenient  to  a  faller. 
foe,  willingly  made  peace  with  the  Danish  king,  and? 
after  he  had  been  baptized,  made  him  Duke  of  Denmark. 
But  he  asked,  that,  in  proof  of  his  sincerity,  Godfrey 
should  give  up  as  hostages  four  of  the  noblest  youths 
about  his  court.  This  the  humbled  Dane  agreed  to  do ; 
md  by  the  advice  of  his  wife  he  gave  his  own  son, 
.he  matchless  Ogier,  as  one  of  the  four.  And  not  long 
after  this,  Charlemagne  and  his  host  returned  home. 

It  chanced  that  Duke  Namon  of  Bavaria  saw  the 
Danish  prince,  and  was  much  pleased  with  his  open 
countenance,  his  noble  form,  and  his  courtly  manner; 
and  he  hastened  to  get  leave  of  the  king  to  have  the 
young  man  in  his  own  household,  not  as  an  underling  or 
a  servant,  but  as  a  worthy  and  honored  squire.  And  it 
was  thus  that  Ogier  and  Roland  came  to  dwell  beneath  the 
same  roof.  And  their  friendship  waxed  daily  stronger 
%nd  stronger,  until  in  the  end  they  exchanged  tokens, 
and  pledged  each  other  as  brothers  in  arms.  Neverthe- 
less, Roland  still  remembered  Oliver  with  the  same 
brotherly  love  as  of  yore,  and  allowed  not  his  affection 
for  Ogier  to  make  him  forget  his  earlier  vows  of  brother- 
flood. 

Ogie    grew  daily  stronger  and  more  handsome,  and 


Ogier  the  Dane.  55 


more  skilful  in  every  feat  of  arms,  and  more  graceful 
in  every  deed  of  courtesy.  And  none  of  the  youths 
about  the  French  court,  not  even  Roland,  could  equal 
him  in  the  games  wherein  their  strength  and  endurance 
were  tried  But  as  months  and  months  went  by,  and 
his  father  allowed  him  still  to  be  held  as  a  hostage  and 
a  prisoner  in  a  strange  land,  his  heart  sometimes  burned 
with  impatience,  or  sometimes  grew  sad  with  a  weary 
longing  for  freedom. 

In  the  mean  while,  Duke  Godfrey,  the  father  of  Ogier. 
was  too  busy  plotting  treason  against  his  liege  lord 
Charlemagne  to  have  much  thought  for  his  son  ;  and 
indeed,  so  great  was  his  feeling  of  jealousy  toward 
Ogier,  that  he  had  no  wish  to  have  him  ever  return  to 
Denmark.  His  wife  was  very  anxious  that  the  Danish 
crown  might  be  left  to  her  own  son,  Guyon ;  and  she  at 
length  persuaded  her  husband  to  withhold  from  Char- 
lemagne the  tribute  which  had  been  promised ;  for  she 
hoped  that  the  French  king  would  become  so  angered 
by  this  neglect  that  he  would  put  the  hostages  to  death. 

And  now  four  years  had  passed,  and  Charlemagne 
had  not  received  a  penny  of  tribute  from  Godfrey ;  nor 
had  the  Danish  duke  come  once  to  his  court  to  do  him 
homage,  as  he  had  agreed.  Often  had  the  king  threat- 
ened to  punish  the  Dane  for  his  neglect.  But  his  wars 
in  Italy  and  with  the  Saracens  had  claimed  all  his  time, 
and  the  affairs  of  Denmark  were  allowed  to  rest  with- 
out much  attention.  And  Godfrey  went  on  strength- 
ening his  castles,  and  building  a  fleet,  and  training  bis 


56  The  Story  of  Re  Land. 

fighting  men  ;  and  he  persuaded  himself  that  he  would 
yet  outwit  and  get  the  better  of  the  king.  But  one  day 
Charlemagne,  as  he  sat  at  table  with  his  peers  around 
him,  chanced  to  remember  the  slighted  tribute,  and  the 
homage  so  long  due  him  from  Duke  Godfrey. 

"While  all  my  enemies  are  humbled  in  the  dust," 
said  he,  "  this  Dane  is  the  only  man  who  dares  neglect 
his  duty.  He  shall  be  reminded  at  once  of  his  broken 
promises,  and  of  the  debt  which  he  owes  us." 

And  he  immediately  despatched  an  embassy  of  four 
trustworthy  knights,  with  a  retinue  of  squires  and  servi- 
tors, to  the  court  of  Denmark  to  demand  that  the  trib- 
ute so  long  overdue  should  bs  paid  without  furthef 
delay. 


How  the  Army  crossed  the  Alps.          57 


ADVENTURE   VI. 


HOW  THE  ARMY   CROSSED   THE  ALPS. 

IT  was  near  the  time  of  the  solemn  festival  of  Easter, 
—  the  time  when  Nature  seems  to  rise  from  the  grave, 
and  the  Earth  puts  on  anew  her  garb  of  youth  and 
beauty.  King  Charlemagne  was  at  St.  Omer ;  for  there 
the  good  Archbishop  Turpin  was  making  ready  to  cele- 
brate the  great  feast  with  more  than  ordinary  grandeur. 
Thither,  too,  had  gone  the  members  of  the  king's  house- 
hold, and  a  great  number  of  lords  and  ladies,  the  noblest 
in  France.  There  were  the  queen,  the  fair  Fastrada, 
and  Charlemagne's  two  sons  Chariot  and  Louis,  and 
his  sisters  Bertha  and  Alice,  and  his  daughters  Belis- 
sent  and  Emma.1  And  there  also  were  many  of  the 
peers  of  the  realm,  —  Duke  Namon,  and  Ganelon,  and 
Malagis  the  wizard,  and  Alcuin  the  English  school- 
master, and  Gerineldo  the  king's  scribe,  and  Roland, 
and  Cgier  the  Dane.  And  with  many  fond  anticipa- 
tions all  awaited  the  coming  of  the  festal  day,  and  the 
new  season  of  active  duty  and  labor  which  it  would 
usher  in. 

1  See  Note  6  at  the  «nd  of  this  volume. 


58  The  Story  of  Roland. 

But  there  came  fleet  messengers  to  St.  Omer,  bearing 
to  Charlemagne  news  as  unlooked-for  as  it  was  disagree- 
able. The  ambassadors  whom  he  had  sent  last  autumn 
to  claim  the  homage  and  the  tribute  due  from  Duke 
Godfrey  of  Denmark  had  come  home  with  shaved  faces 
and  tonsured  heads.  Barely  had  they  escaped  with  their 
lives  from  the  traitorous  Dane.  And  they  had  brought 
this  word  from  Godfrey.  "  Tell  your  king,"  said  he, 
"  that  the  lord  of  Denmark  is  no  man's  thrall,  and  that 
never  will  he  do  homage,  or  pay  aught  of  tribute,  to  any 
foreign  tyrant." 

Great  was  the  wrath  of  Charlemagne,  and  he  declared 
at  once  that  Ogier  the  Dane,  and  his  three  comrades, 
should  be  put  to  death ;  for,  according  to  the  terms 
^..ide  with  Godfrey,  the  young  men  were  now  for-hos- 
taged,  and  their  lives  were  justly  forfeited.  And  in  spite 
of  the  sage  advice  of  Duke  Namon,  and  the  prayers  of 
the  queen  herself,  the  king  caused  the  four  hostages  to 
be  thrown  into  the  dungeon  of  St.  Omer ;  and  he  threa- 
tened, that,  as  soon  as  Eastertide  was  past,  they  should 
be  brought  out,  and  hanged  in  the  sight  of  all  the  people. 
Then  word  was  sent  to  Paris  and  to  Aix,  and  to  all  the 
chiefs  and  lords  in  France,  calling  every  one  who  was 
able  to  bear  arms  to  rally  around  the  king's  standard^ 
and  be  ready  on  a  moment's  notice  to  move  against  the 
traitorous  Duke  of  Denmark.  And  when,  at  length, 
Easter  morning  broke,  and  the  sun  rose  clear  and  bright 
in  a  cloudless  sky,  its  rays  fell  upon  the  armor  and 
banners  of  a  mighty  host  encamped  at  St.  Omer,  and 


How  the  Army  crossed  the  Alps.          59 

expecting  on  the  morrow  to  begin  the  march  to  the 

North. 

But  a  new  surprise  awaited  Charlemagne.  Scarcely 
had  the  good  archbishop  pronounced  a  blessing  upon 
the  devout  multitude  assembled  at  the  Easter  service* 
when  two  messengers  came  in  hot  haste,  and  demanded 
to  speak  with  the  king.  They  had  come  from  Rome, 
and  they  bore  letters  from  Pope  Leo.  Sad  was  the  news 
which  these  letters  brought,  but  it  was  news  which 
would  fire  the  heart  of  every  Christian  knight.  The 
Saracens  had  landed  in  Italy,  and  had  taken  Rome  by 
assault.  "  The  pope  and  the  cardinals  and  the  legates 
have  fled,"  said  the  letters ;  "  the  churches  are  torn 
down  ;  the  holy  relics  are  lost ;  and  the  Christians  are 
put  to  the  sword.  Wherefore  the  Holy  Father  charges 
you  as  a  Christian  king  to  march  at  once  to  the  help  of 
the  Church." 

It  needed  no  word  of  Charlemagne  to  arouse  the  ardor 
of  his  warriors.  Every  other  undertaking  must  be  laid 
aside,  so  long  as  Rome  and  the  Church  were  in  danger. 
The  design  of  marching  against  the  Danes  was  given 
up  for  a  time ;  and  the  heralds  proclaimed  that  on  the 
morrow,  at  break  of  day,  the  array,  instead  of  advancing 
northward,  would  move  southward  toward  Italy, 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  Ogier  and  the  other  Danish 
hostages  ? '  asked  Ganelon,  smiling,  and  hoping  that 
the  king  would  carry  out  his  threats,  and  have  the 
young  men  put  to  death. 

"  It  is  no  fit  time  tc  deal  with  them  now/'  answered 


6o  The  Story  of  Roland. 

the  king.  "Let  the  three  who  are  of  lower  rank  lie 
in  prison  where  they  are.  But  as  for  Ogier,  the  prince, 
do  you  take  charge  of  him,  and  bring  him  with  you  tc 
Rome.  See  that  he  does  not  escape ;  and,  when  w« 
have  driven  the  Pagans  out  of  the  city,  we  shall  havs 
him  hanged  as  a  traitor  in  the  sight  of  the  whole  host'" 

The  morning  after  Blaster  dawned,  and  the  great 
army  waited  for  the  signal  to  march.  The  bugles 
sounded,  and  the  long  line  of  steel-clad  knights  and 
warriors  began  to  move,  Charlemagne  rode  in  the 
front  ranks,  ready,  like  a  true  knight,  to  brave  every 
difficulty,  and  to  be  the  first  in  every  post  of  danger. 
Never  did  a  better  king  wear  spur.  Roland,  as  was  his 
wont  on  such  occasions,  rode  by  the  side  of  Duke 
Namon,  carrying  that  knight's  shield  and  the  heavier 
parts  of  his  armor ;  and,  as  became  a  trusty  squire,  he 
thought  not  of  his  own  pleasure,  but  of  the  comfort  of 
him  whom  he  served.  Nor  did  he  consider  his  own 
safety  or  his  own  honor  to  be  matters  of  concern,  so 
long  as  Duke  Namon  was  his  lord.  But  Ogier  the  Dane 
rode  in  the  rear  of  the  host,  with  Ganelon's  squires ;  and, 
being  a  prisoner,  he  was  not  allowed  to  carry  any  arms, 
or  to  move  out  of  sight  of  the  young  men  who  guarded 
him, 

Great  was  the  haste  with  which  the  army  moved,  and 
very  impatient  were  the  warriors ;  for  the  whole  of 
France  lay  between  them  and  fair  Italy,  and  they  knew 
that  weeks  of  weary  marching  must  be  endured,  ere 
they  could  meet  their  Pagan  foe  in  battle,  and  drive  him 


How  the  Army  crossed  the  Alps.          61 

out  of  the  Christians'  land.  Many  days  they  rode  among 
the  rich  fields,  and  between  the  blooming  orchards,  of 
the  Seine  valley ;  many  days  they  toiled  over  unbroken 
forest  roads,  and  among  marshes  and  bogs,  and  across 
untrodden  moorlands.  They  climbed  steep  hills,  and 
swam  broad  rivers,  and  endured  the  rain  and  the  wind 
and  the  fierce  heat  of  the  noonday  sun,  and  sometimes 
even  the  pangs  of  hunger  and  thirst.  But  they  carried 
brave  hearts  within  them ;  and  they  comforted  them- 
selves with  the  thought  that  all  their  suffering  was  for 
the  glory  of  God  and  the  honor  of  the  king,  for  their 
country's  safety  and  the  security  of  their  homes.  And 
every  day,  as  they  advanced,  the  army  increased  in 
numbers  and  in  strength :  for  the  news  had  been 
carried  all  over  the  land,  that  the  Saracens  had  taken 
Rome,  and  that  Charlemagne  with  his  host  was  hasten- 
ing to  the  rescue  ;  and  knights  and  noblemen  from  every 
city  and  town  and  countryside  came  to  join  his  stand- 
ard, sometimes  alone  and  singly,  and  sometimes  with  a 
great  retinue  of  fighting  men  and  servitors.  And  when 
at  last  they  had  passed  the  boundaries  of  France,  and 
only  the  great  mountains  lay  between  them  and  Italy, 
Charlemagne  could  look  behind  him,  and  see  an  army 
df  a  hundred  thousand  men.  And  now  messengers 
came  to  him  again,  urging  him  to  hasten  with  all  speed 
to  the  succor  of  the  pope. 

But  the  Alps  Mountains  lifted  themselves  up  in  his 
pathway,  and  their  snowy  crags  frowned  threateningly 
upon  him ;  their  steep,  rocky  sides  arose  like  walls  be 


02  'ine  &tory  of  Roland. 

fore  him,  and  seemed  to  forbid  his  going  farther ;  and 
there  appeared  to  be  no  way  of  reaching  Italy,  save  by 
a  long  and  circuitous  route  through  the  southern  passes. 
In  the  hope  that  he  might  find  some  shorter  and  easie? 
passage,  Charlemagne  now  sent  out  scouts  and  moun 
taineers  to  explore  every  valley  and  gorge,  and  every 
seeming  mountain  pass.  But  all  came  back  with  the 
same  story :  there  was  not  even  so  much  as  a  path  up 
which  the  mountain  goats  could  clamber,  much  less  a 
road  broad  enough  for  an  army  with  horses  and  baggage 
to  traverse.  The  king  was  in  despair,  and  he  called 
together  his  counsellors  and  wise  men  to  consider  what 
should  be  done.  Duke  Namon  urged  that  they  should 
march  around  by  way  of  the  southern  passes  ;  for, 
although  a  full  month  would  thus  be  lost,  yet  there 
was  no  c'her  safe  and  well-known  land-route  to  Italy. 
Ganelon  advised  that  they  should  turn  back,  and, 
marching  to  Marseilles,  embark  from  thence  on  ships, 
and  ur  j/.rtake  to  reach  Rome  by  way  of  the  sea. 

Thf:a  the  dwarf  Malagis  came  before  Charlemagne, 
bearing  in  his  hand  a  book,  from  which  he  read  many 
spells  and  weird  enchantments.  Upon  the  ground  he 
irew  with  his  wand  a  magic  ring,  and  he  laid  therein 
:he  hammer  of  Thor  and  the  sword  of  Mahmet.  Then, 
in  a  loud,  commanding  voice,  he  called  upon  the  sprites, 
the  trolls,  and  the  goblins,  with  whom  he  was  familiar, 
to  come  at  once  into  his  presence.  And  the  lightning 
flashed,  and  the  thunder  rolled,  and  smoke  and  fire  burst 
forth  from  the  mountain  peaks,  and  the  rocks  and  great 


How  the  Army  crossed  the  Alps.          63 

ice-fields  were  loosened  among  the  crags,  and  came 
tumbling  down  into  the  valley.  And  dwarfs  and  elves; 
and  many  an  uncanny  thing,  danced  and  shouted  in  the 
mountain  caves ;  and  grinning  ogres  peeped  out  from 
the  deep  clefts  and  gorges ;  and  the  very  air  seemed 
full  of  ghostlike  creatures.  Then  the  wizard  called  by 
name  a  wise  but  wicked  goblin,  known  among  the 
Saracens  as  Ashtaroth ;  and  the  goblin  came  at  once, 
riding  in  a  whirlwind,  and  feeling  very  angry  because 
he  was  obliged  to  obey. 

"Tell  me  now,"  said  Malagis,  "and  tell  me  truly, 
whether  there  is  here  so  much  as  a  pathway  by  which 
Charlemagne  may  lead  his  army  through  the  moun 


'ains.' 


The  goblin  was  silent  for  a  moment ;  and  a  dark  cloud 
rested  upon  his  face,  and  his  look  was  terrible.  But 
the  wizard,  in  no  wise  daunted,  returned  his  glance, 
and  in  the  tones  of  a  master  bade  him  clear  up  that 
clouded  look,  and  answer  the  question  he  had  asked. 
Then  Ashtaroth  curbed  his  anger,  and  spoke. 

"  On  what  errand  would  the  French  king  cross  the 
Alps  ? '  be  asked.  *'  Seeks  he  not  to  harm  my  friends 
the  Saracens?' 

"That  is,  indeed,  his  errand,"  answered  Malagis. 

"  Then,  why  should  I  do  aught  to  help  him  ? "  asked 
the  goblin.  "  Why  do  you  call  me  from  my  rest,  and 
bid  me  betray  my  friends  ? " 

"That  is  not  for  thee  to  ask,"  said  Malagis.  "I 
have  called  thee  as  a  master  calls  his  slave,  Tell  me. 


64  The  Story  of  Roland. 

now,  and  tell  me  truly,  is  there  here  any  pass  across 
the  mountains  into  Italy  ? ' 

"  There  is  such  a  pass,"  answered  the  goblin  gravely ; 
but  it  is  hidden  to  eyes  like  mine.  I  cannot  guide  you 
to  it,  nor  can  any  of  my  kind  show  you  how  to  find  it 
It  is  a  pathway  which  only  the  pure  can  tread." 

"  Tell  me  one  thing  more,"  said  Malagis.  "  Tell  me 
one  thing,  and  I  will  let  thee  go.  How  prosper  thy 
friends  the  Saracens  at  Rome?*' 

"They  have  taken  all  but  the  Capitol,"  was  the 
answer.  "  They  have  slain  many  Christians,  and  burned 
many  buildings.  The  pope  and  the  cardinals  have  fled 
to  Spoleto.  If  Charlemagne  reach  not  Italy  within  a 
month,  ill  will  it  fare  with  his  friends." 

Then  Malagis,  satisfied  with  what  he  had  heard,  un- 
wound the  spell  of  his  enchantments  ;  and  amid  a  cloud 
of  fire  and  smoke  the  goblin  flew  back  again  into  the 
mountains. 

And  now  the  good  Turpin  came  forward,  with  a  cro 
sier  in  bis  hand,  and  a  bishop's  mitre  on  his  head,  and 
a  long  white  robe  thrown  over  his  shoulders,  scarcely 
hiding  the  steel  armor  which  he  wore  beneath.  And 
he  lifted  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  prayed.  And  the 
sound  of  his  voice  arose  among  the  cliffs,  and  resounded 
among  the  rocks,  and  was  echoed  from  valley  to  valley, 
and  re-echoed  among  the  peaks  and  crags,  and  carried 
over  the  mountain  tops,  even  to  the  blue  sky  above, 
And  the  king  and  those  who  stood  about  him  fancied 
that  they  heard  sweet  strains  of  music  issuing  from  the 


THE  WHITE  STAG. 


How  the  Army  crossed  the  Alps.          65 

mountain  caves  ;  and  the  most  bewitching  sounds  arose 
among  the  rocks  and  gorges  ;  and  the  air  was  filled  with 
a  heavenly  perfume  and  the  songs  of  singing-birds  ;  and 
a  holy  calm  settled  over  mountain  and  valley,  and  fell 
like  a  blessing  upon  the  earth.  Then  the  Alps  no  longer 
seemed  obstacles  in  their  way.  The  steep  cliffs,  which 
had  been  like  mighty  walls  barring  their  progress,  seemed 
now  mere  gentle  slopes,  rising  little  by  little  toward 
heaven,  and  affording  a  pleasant  and  easy  highway  to 
the  fair  fields  of  Italy  beyond. 

While  Charlemagne  and  his  peers  gazed  in  rapt  de- 
light upon  this  vision,  there  came  down  from  the  moun- 
tain crags  a  beautiful  creature  such  as  none  of  them 
had  ever  before  seen.  It  was  a  noble  stag,  white  as 
the  drifted  snow,  his  head  crowned  with  wide-branching 
antlers,  from  every  point  of  which  bright  sunbeams 
seemed  to  flash. 

"Behold  our  leader  and  our  hope!'  cried  Turpin. 
"  Behold  the  sure-footed  guide  which  the  Wonder-king 
has  sent  to  lead  us  through  narrow  ways,  and  over  dan- 
gerous steeps,  to  the  smiling  valleys  and  fields  of  Italy  I 
Be  only  strong  and  trustful  and  believing,  and  a  safe 
way  shall  open  for  us,  even  where  there  seemed  to  be 
ao  way." 

Then  the  vision  faded  slowly  away  from  the  sight  of 
the  peers ;  and  the  mountain  walls  rose  up  before  them 
as  grim  and  steep  as  ever ;  and  the  snow-crowned  crags 
looked  down  upon  them  even  more  angrily  than  before, 
and  there  seemed  no  road  nor  pathway  which  the  foot 


66  The  Story  of  Roland, 

m\  !•!!  tt»   i—  ••.•••••^^•^••••^••^^•.••^•••.•^••••^••••••••^^^^••^^^•^^••^^^••••••••••••••••••••^••••••••••••••••••••••^^•.•••i  mm  m  .!!•  i  •••••^•j-v 

of  man  could  follow.  But  the  wondrous  white  stag, 
which  had  filled  their  minds  with  a  new-born  hope,  still 
stood  in  plain  sight  on  the  lowermost  slopes  of  the 
mountain. 

The  king,  without  once  taking  his  eyes  from  the 
Heaven-sent  creature,  mounted  his  war  steed,  and  sound 
ed  the  bugle  which  hung  at  his  girdle ;  and  the  great 
army,  confiding  in  the  wisdom  of  their  leader,  began  to 
move.  The  white  stag  went  first,  steadily  following 
a  narrow  pathway,  which  led  upward  by  many  steep 
ascents,  seemingly  to  the  very  clouds ;  and  behind  him 
rode  Charlemagne,  keeping  ever  in  view  his  radiant, 
hopeful  guide,  and  followed  by  the  long  line  of  knights 
and  warriors,  who,  cheered  by  his  earnest  faith,  never 
once  feared  the  end.  Higher  and  higher  they  climbed, 
and  more  and  more  difficult  became  the  way.  On  one 
side  of  them  arose  a  steep  wall,  shutting  out  from  their 
sight  more  than  half  of  the  sky :  on  the  other  side, 
dark  gorges  and  yawning  gulfs  descended,  threatening 
to  bury  the  whole  army  in  their  bottomless  depths 
And  by  and  by  they  came  to  the  region  of  snow  and 
ice,  where  the  Storm-king  holds  his  court,  and  reigns  in 
everlasting  solitude.  And,  looking  back,  they  could  see 
sweet  France,  lying  spread  out  as  a  map  before  them 
its  pleasant  fields  and  its  busy  towns  seeming  only  as 
specks  in  the  dim  distance.  But  when  they  looked 
forward,  hoping  there  to  see  a  like  map  of  fair  Italy, 
only  the  rocks  and  the  ice,  and  the  narrow  pathway, 
and  the  desolate  mountain  crags,  met  their  sight.  At>d 


How  ike  Army  crossed  the  Alps. 

they  would  have  become  disheartened  by  the  difficulties 
before  them,  and  have  turned  back  in  utter  despair,  had 
not  the  bright  form  of  their  guide,  and  the  cheerful 
countenance  of  Charlemagne,  inspired  them  with  ever- 
renewed  hope.  For  seven  days  they  toiled  among  the 
dangerous  steeps ;  and  on  the  eighth  a  glorious  vision 
burst  upon  their  view  —  the  smiling  plains  of  Italy  lay 
before  them.  At  this  sight  a  great  shout  of  joy  went 
up  from  the  throats  of  the  toil-worn  heroes,  and  the 
good  archbishop  returned  thanks  to  Heaven  for  their 
deliverance  from  peril.  And,  a  few  hours  later,  the 
whole  army  emerged  into  the  pleasant  valleys  of  Pied- 
mont, and  encamped  not  far  from  Aosta. 

Very  wonderful  indeed  had  been  this  passage  over 
the  Alps  ;  and,  what  was  more  wonderful  still,  not  a 
man,  nor  a  beast,  nor  any  part  of  the  baggage,  had 
been  lost.  After  he  had  rested  and  dined,  the  king 
called  before  him  his  minstrels  and  jongleurs,  and  bade 
them  sing  their  merriest  songs,  and  play  their  gayest 
tunes  on  the  harp,  the  viol,  and  the  guitar.  And  the 
heart  of  the  king  was  softened  by  the  sweet  strains  of 
music,  and  by  the  feelings  of  thankfulness  which  filled 
his  soul ;  and  he  felt  no  longer  any  malice  toward  those 
who  had  done  him  wrong,  nor  any  hatred  toward  his 
enemies.  Then  one  among  the  minstrels,  an  old  man 
who  had  been  a  bard  among  the  Saxons,  and  who  knew 
all  the  lore  of  the  North-folk,  tuned  his  harp,  and  sang 
a  song  of  the  old  Pagan  days,  and  of  the  bold,  free  life 
of  the  Danish  sea-kings. 


68  7*ke  Story  of  Rolavid. 

When  the  minstrel  ceased,  the  king,  who  had  been 
strangely  touched  by  the  lively  melody,  looked  around 
upon  his  peers,  and  asked,  — 

"  Is  there  not  with  us  a  young  Danish  prince,  one 
Ogier,  the  son  of  the  rebel  Godfrey?  Methinks  that 
he,  too,  can  make  fine  music  on  the  harp." 

"  My  lord,"  answered  Duke  Namon,  "  the  young  man, 
as  you  doubtless  remembert  is  for-hostaged ;  and  he  is 
now  a  prisoner  in  charge  of  Duke  Ganelon." 

"  Let  him  be  brought  hither,"  said  the  king. 

A  few  minutes  later,  Ogier,  erect  and  proud,  and  as 
fearless  as  a  young  lion,  was  led  into  the  presence  of 
Charlemagne  and  the  peers  ;  and  by  his  side  walked  his 
brother-in-arms,  young  Roland.  He  took  the  harp  from 
the  minstrel's  hands ;  and,  as  his  fingers  swept  lightly 
over  the  strings,  he  sang  a  song  that  he  had  learned  in 
his  father's  court  in  Denmark.  And  all  who  heard  him 
agreed  that  they  had  never  listened  to  sweeter  music. 

"  Young  man,"  said  the  king,  "  thou  singest  well  I 
would  fain  reward  thee,  and  hence  I  grant  thee  a  re- 
prieve. I  give  thee  thy  life  until  we  again  return  to 
France." 

Then  Roland,  as  the  nephew  of  the  king,  boldly 
begged  that  he  would  grant  a  full  pardon  to  Ogier. 
But  he  would  not.  Never,  said  he,  should  feelings  of 
pity  turn  him  aside  from  the  path  of  justice.  Should 
he  spare  the  life  of  one  person  for-hostaged,  the  value 
of  hostages  as  pledges  of  good  faith  would  no  longer 
be  regarded.  Then  Duke  Namon  asked  the  king,  that 


How  the  Army  crossed  the  Alps.  69 

as  a  personal  favor,  he  would  allow  Ogier  to  remain 
with  him  during  the  rest  of  the  march :  he  wished  him 
to  care  for  his  nephew,  a  noble  knight  who  was  in  his 
train,  and  was  sick.  To  this  request  the  king  readily 
assented,  and  Ogier  was  re-instated  in  the  service  of 
his  former  loved  master.  And  Roland  and  the  othfci 
squires  with  Duke  Namon,  welcomed  him  most  heartily 
to  his  old  place  of  honor  among  thesn. 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


ADVENTURE,    VIL 


KNIGHTED   ON   THE  BATTLEFIELD. 

SCARCELY  had  the  array  rested  from  the  fatigues  of 
the  march  across  the  Alps,  when  messengers  came  the 
third  time  from  the  pope,  praying  Charlemagne  to 
hasten  his  coming,  "The  heathen  triumph!  The 
Christians  arc  put  to  the  sword !  The  Holy  Father 
charges  thee  as  the  champion  of  Christendom  to  come 
quickly  to  his  aid  I '  At  once  the  camp  at  Aosta  was 
broken  up,  and  the  great  host  advanced  by  hasty 
marches  on  towards  Rome.  And  Roland  and  Ogier 
the  Dane  rode  side  by  side,  and  lamented  that  they 
were  not  yet  armed  knights,  and  could  not  take  any 
active  part  in  the  battle  which  was  soon  to  be  fought. 

"I  have  not  long  to  live,"  said  Ogier;  "and  the  heavi- 
est thought  that  weighs  upon  my  mind  is,  that  I  shaL 
die  without  having  distinguished  myself  in  arms,  and 
without  having  done  aught  for  the  glory  of  the  king  or 
the  honor  of  knighthood." 

"  It  shall  not  be,"  answered  Roland.  "  You  shall  not 
die  thus  early  and  thus  shamefully.  I  will  again  inter- 
cede with  my  uncle  the  king,  and  I  will  save  you.  And 


Knighted  on  the  Battlefield.  71 

ere  many  years  we  both  shall  be  knights,  armed  and 
belted  and  spurred,  brothers-in-arms  and  peers  of  the 
king,  worthy  to  do  our  part  in  battle  with  the  unbeliev- 
ers, and  in  all  honorable  undertakings." 

The  French  arrived  at  Sutri.  Roland  saw  with  pleas- 
are  the  familiar  haunts  of  his  boyhood.  He  pointed 
out  to  Ogier  the  rocky  cleft  on  the  hilltop,  where,  years 
before,  he  had  watched  for  the  coming  of  Charlemagne's 
host.  And,  when  the  old  castle  came  in  view,  many 
memories,  pleasant  and  painful,  rushed  into  his  mind. 
Oliver's  father,  Count  Rainier,  had  long  ago  removed  to 
Genoa,  and  the  place  was  now  held  by  strangers ;  nor 
did  Roland  see  a  single  face  in  the  town  that  he  remem- 
bered as  having  known  in  the  days  of  his  childhood. 

A  short  distance  beyond  Sutri,  they  met  the  Pagan 
host  who  had  come  out  of  Rome  to  give  them  battle, 
Charlemagne  decided  to  attack  them  at  once.  Duke 
Namon,  as  the  worthiest  of  the  peers,  led  the  vanguard 
of  the  French  ;  but  Roland  and  Ogier  staid  in  the  rear 
with  the  other  squires,  much  grieving  that  it  was  not 
allowed  them  to  bear  arms,  and  that  they  could  take 
only  the  part  of  lookers-on  in  this  great  contest  The 
golden  standard  of  the  king,  the  sacred  Oriflamme,  was 
carried  by  one  Alory,  who  claimed  it  as  the  right  of  an 
Italian  ;  he  being  a  native  of  Apulia. 

Roland  and  Ogier  climbed  a  hill  in  order  the  better 
to  view  the  fight.  Duke  Namon,  with  the  bravest 
knights  of  France  and  their  Italian  allies,  follower!  the 
standard  to  the  attack.  At  the  first  assault  the  Pagans 


72  The  Story  of  Roland. 

were  worsted ;  «,ney  seemed  to  fall  back  in  confusion, 
and  Duke  Namon  pressed  upon  them  right  valiantly 
Then  the  foe  rallied  again  ;  they  stood  stubbornly ;  they 
rushed  savagely  upon  the  bearers  of  the  golden  stand 
ard.  Alory  and  his  cowardly  companions  from  Lorn- 
bardy  were  frightened  :  they  had  not  the  fearless  hearts 
which  are  born  of  Northern  blood.  They  turned,  and 
fied  for  their  lives.  Full  of  joy  now  were  the  Pagans 
to  see  the  Oriflamme  in  flight :  full  of  shame  and  bewil- 
derment were  the  French,  In  vain  did  Duke  Namon 
strive  to  turn  the  tide :  he  was  hemmed  in  by  giant  foes 
on  every  side.  He  fought  manfully,  but  against  such 
odds,  that  he  was  soon  taken  prisoner.  Many  other 
knights,  the  bravest  among  the  French,  were  over- 
powered. Charlemagne  himself  was  hard  beset.  His 
lance  failed  him,  he  was  unhorsed ;  and  yet  most  val- 
iantly did  he  defend  himself. 

Roland  and  the  Dane  could  no  longer  hold  themselves 
aloof.  They  saw  Alory  and  his  coward  Lombards  com- 
ing up  the  hill  in  shameful  flight.  They  called  the 
squires  around  them,  and  urged  them  to  rally  to  ths  fray 
like  heroes. 

"  But  how  shall  we  fight  without  arms  ? '  .asked  the 
faint-hearted. 

"  Fight  with  whatever  comes  to  hand  !  "  cried  Roland 
"  A  sharpened  stake  wielded  by  a  brave  man  is  better 
than  a  lance  in  the  hands  of  a  coward.  Let  us  die  here 
for  the  king  and  for  France  rather  than  turn  our  backs 
to  the  foe." 


Knighted  on  the  Battlefield.  73 

Alory  and  his  Lombards  were  now  very  near. 

"  Believe  me,"  cried  Ogier,  "  if  God  have  part  or 
parcel  in  this  day's  work,  these  cowards  shall  take  hence 
neither  horse  nor  arms  ! ' 

"  Shame  be  on  any  that  shall  fail  thee ! '  answered 
the  squires. 

As  Alory  rode  up,  they  seized  his  horse  by  the  bits : 
they  stopped  him  in  his  shameful  flight. 

"  Have  you  lost  the  day  ? '    asked  Ogier. 

"  Where  is  the  king  ? '  asked  Roland.  "  Where  is 
Duke  Namon  ?  How  have  you  left  the  French  ? ' 

"  The  king  is  taken,"  answered  Alory.  "  The  infidels 
hold  the  field.  The  French  are  slain." 

"  Thou  liest ! '  cried  the  squires.  "  Had  ye  not  failed 
in  battle,  all  would  have  been  well." 

Without  another  word,  Ogier  felled  Alory  with  a  blow 
of  his  fist,  for  arms  had  he  none.  The  other  squires 
followed  his  example,  and  dragged  the  craven  Lombards 
from  their  saddles,  They  despoiled  them  of  their 
armor,  they  seized  their  arms,  and  mounted  their  steeds. 
Ogier  took  the  golden  standard  in  his  hands  ;  the  golden 
cords  fluttered  around  his  wrists ;  the  charger  which  he 
bestrode  champed  the  bit,  impatient  to  return  to  the 
ield. 

"  Follow  me,  ye  who  are  not  cowards  ! '    he  cried. 

The  squires  hastily  formed  in  ranks,  ready  for  the 
onset     He  who  could  find  no  lance  was  content  with  a 
sharpened  stake,  with  the  splintered  branch  of  an  apple 
tree  or  an  ash.      Very  eager  was  every  one  for  the 


74  The  Story  of  Roland. 

fray.  They  tore  their  clothing  into  shreds  with  which 
to  nmke  pennons :  they  cared  little  for  shields  or  war 
coats. 

By  this  time  Charlemagne  had  freed  himself  from  the 
Pagans  who  beset  him,  and  had  again  mounted  his  war 
horse.  Only  a  hundred  knights  were  left  with  him  now  { 
all  the  others  had  been  slain,  or  taken  prisoners,  or  had 
sought  safety  in  flight  But  the  king  would  not  leave 
the  field.  The  Pagans  were  already  gloating  over  their 
victory.  They  were  thinking  of  the  day  when  they 
should  see  the  Christian  knights  eaten  by  lions  in  the 
arena  at  Rome :  they  did  not  dream  of  any  danger. 
Suddenly  Ogier  and  Roland  and  the  troop  of  squires 
swept  down  upon  them  like  a  whirlwind  upon  a  field 
of  growing  corn.  Never  were  Pagan  folk  so  taken  by 
surprise.  Roland  attacked  the  chief  who  held  Duke 
Namon  prisoner :  he  split  his  shield  in  twain,  and  burst 
his  coat-of-niail  asunder.  The  French  knights  were  all 
set  free.  The  squires  hastily  donned  the  armor  of  the 
slain  Saracens,  and  followed  in  swift  pursuit  their  panic- 
stricken  foes.  Never  was  rout  more  unexpected  01 
more  complete. 

In  the  mean  while  Charlemagne,  seeing  the  flight  of 
the  enemy,  stopped  not  to  learn  the  cause,  but  followed 
recklessly  in  their  wake.  His  hauberk  was  broken,  and 
his  shield  was  pierced  with  many  lance-thrusts ;  but  hie 
good  sword  Joyeuse  was  in  his  hand,  a  very  terror  to 
his  foes  He  sees  Corsuble,  the  Saracen  king,  flying 
over  the  plain,  and,  unraindful  of  danger,  he  gives  pur 


Knighted  on  the  Battlefield.  75 

suit  A  moment  more,  and  Corsuble's  head  will  roll  in 
the  sand  But  no!  Two  Pagan  knights,  very  giants 
in  stature,  rush  to  the  rescue.  Charlemagne's  horse  is 
slain  beneath  him,  and  he  himself  is  stretched  helpless 
upon  the  ground.  And  now  the  Saracens,  content  with 
having  rescued  their  own  chief,  and  anxious  to  save 
themselves,  would  have  ridden  onward,  had  not  the. 
golden  eagle  on  Charlemagne's  casque  betrayed  his  rank 
They  hesitated  It  would  never  do,  they  thought,  tc 
leave  the  deed  but  half  done.  Hastily  they  dismounted 
to  give  the  fallen  king  his  death-blow.  Never  had  his 
life  been  in  so  great  peril.  But  Ogier  had  seen  him  fail, 
and  he  rushed  with  the  speed  of  a  falcon  to  his  aid. 
The  golden  standard  which  the  young  squire  held  in  his 
hands  hindered  him  from  drawing  his  sword ;  and  one 
would  have  thought  him  but  a  poor  match  for  the  two 
well-armed  Saracens.  But  he  came  so  swiftly,  that  he 
was  upon  them  ere  they  were  aware.  One  of  them  was 
ridden  down  by  his  horse,  and  rolled  ingloriously  in  the 
sand :  the  other  received  such  a  stunning  blow  with 
the  staff  of  the  Oriflamme,  that  he  fell  senseless  to  the 
ground  Then  Ogier  helped  the  king  to  disentangle 
himself  from  his  fallen  steed,  and  saw  him  safely  mounted 
on  the  horse  of  one  of  the  Saracens. 

"Ah,  Alory,  thou  brave  knight ! '  said  Charlemagne, 
not  recognizing  the  squire  in  disguise,  "  I  have  blamed 
thee  wrongfully.  I  thought  that  I  saw  thee  flying  dis- 
gracefully from  the  field  But  I  was  wrong,  and  thou 
shalt  be  rewarded  for  thy  bravery." 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


Ogier  said  not  a  word,  but,  giving  spurs  to  his 
steed,  he  rode  onward  in  eager  pursuit  of  the  flying 
foe, 

Complete  was  the  defeat  of  the  Saracens  :  in  greal 
haste  and  fear  they  retreated  to  Rome,  and  left  the 
French  the  masters  of  the  field.  Then  Charlemagne 
blew  his  bugle,  and  called  around  him  his  peers  and  the 
knights  whom  the  battle  had  spared.  And  the  good 
Turpin  laid  aside  his  helmet  and  his  sword,  and  putting 
his  mitre  on  his  head,  and  holding  a  crosier  in  his  hand, 
he  sang  the  solemn  "  Tt  Deum  Laudamus  ;  "'  and  all  the 
mighty  host  joined  in  praising  God.  While  they  were 
yet  singing,  Ogier  the  Dane  came  humbly  forward,  and 
laid  the  Oriflamme,  all  torn,  and  covered  with  dust,  at 
Charlemagne's  feet  And  with  him  came  Roland  and 
the  other  squires,  walking  awkwardly  in  their  misfit 
armor  ;  and  all  knelt  reverently  before  the  king.  And 
Charlemagne  spoke  kindly  to  them,  and  again  thanked 
Ogier  for  his  bravery,  again  calling  him  Alory.  And 
the  archbishop  held  his  hands  above  them,  and  blessed 
them.  Then  young  Roland,  bursting  with  impatience, 
threw  off  his  helmet  and  Ogier's  ;  and  the  other  squires 
laid  aside  their  armor.  Great  was  the  astonishment  of 
the  king  and  his  knights  when  they  learned  that  the 
day  had  been  won,  and  their  own  lives  and  honor  saved, 
through  the  valor  of  mere  squires.  And  the  king  folded 
Ogier  in  his  arms,  and  thanked  Heaven  that  he  had  not 
hanged  him  last  Easter.  And  Duke  Namon,  with  tears 
of  joy  in  his  eyes,  embraced  both  the  young  men,  and 


Knighted  on  the  Battlefield.  77 

called  down  the  choicest  blessings  on  their  heads  for 
the  honor  which  they  had  done  him  by  that  day's  gal- 
lant deeds  and  the  signal  service  which  they  had  ren- 
dered the  cause  of  Christendom. 

Then,  turning  to  Charlemagne,  he  asked,  "  What  is 
to  hinder,  my  lord,  from  investing  these  young  men 
with  the  honors  of  knighthood  ? ' 

"  They  richly  deserve  it,"  answered  the  king.  "  Let 
us  make  ready  at  once  for  the  ceremonies.  Such  valor 
must  not  long  be  unrewarded." 

Great  was  the  rejoicing  now  among  the  French  ;  for 
all  the  knights  knew  Roland  and  Ogier,  and  loved  them. 
Only  two  —  Ganelon  of  Mayence,  and  Chariot  the  son 
of  the  king,  their  hearts  burning  with  jealousy  and  un- 
reasoning hate  —  stood  aside,  and  would  not  join  in  the 
general  gratulations.  When  every  thing  was  in  readi- 
ness, the  young  men  again  knelt  before  the  king.  The 
good  archbishop,  after  a  solemn  service,  spoke  briefly 
of  the  duties  of  the  knight,  and  warned  them  of  the 
difficulties  and  temptations  in  their  way.  Then,  taking 
the  swords  which  had  been  prepared  for  them,  he 
blessed  them,  and  laid  them  upon  the  rude  altar  which 
had  been  hastily  built  for  the  occasion.  When  this  had 
been  done,  the  king  stepped  forward,  sword  in  hand, 
and,  smiting  each  of  them  three  times  upon  the  shoul- 
der, he  said,  "In  the  name  of  God  and  St.  Michael  I 
dub  thee  knight :  be  valiant,  loyal,  and  true ! '  Then 
the  peers  who  stood  about  arrayed  them  in  the  knightly 
garb  which  had  been  brought  for  them.  Duke  Namon, 


7  8  Tke  Story  of  Roland. 

who  had  been  the  guardian  and  most  faithful  friend  oi 
both  Roland  and  Ogier,  laced  their  golden  spurs  upon 
their  ankles.  Turpin  blessed  their  white  armor,  and  in- 
vested each  in  his  coat  of  mail.  Duke  Richard  of 
Normandy  buckled  on  their  breastplates ;  and  Guy  of 
Bourgogne  presented  them  the  arm-pieces  and  the 
gauntlets.  Then  came  Charlemagne  with  the  swords 
which  he  had  taken  from  the  altar.  To  Ogier  he  gave 
a  plain  steel  blade  bearing  the  inscription,  WEAR 

ME     UNTIL     YOU    FIND    A    BETTER.       But    to    his     nephew 

Roland  he  gave  a  wondrous  weapon  with  jewelled  hilt, 
and  a  fire-edge  gleaming  like  the  lightning's  glare. 
And  Roland,  as  he  took  it,  read  these  words,  engraved 
with  many  a  fair  device  upt/n  the  blade,  I  AM  DURAN- 
DAL,  WHICH  TROJAN  HECTOR  WORE. 

The  oath  of  chivalry  was  now  taken  by  the  new-made 
knights.  Each  swore  that  he  would  be  faithful  to  God? 
and  loyal  to  the  king ;  that  he  would  reverence  all 
women  ;  that  he  would  ever  be  mindful  of  the  poor 
and  the  helpless ;  that  he  would  never  engage  in  an 
unrighteoas  war ;  that  he  would  never  seek  to  exalt 
himself  to  the  injury  of  others;  that  he  would  speak 
the  truth,  and  love  mercy,  and  deal  justly  with  all  men. 
And  Charlemagne  blessed  them,  and  promised  to  love 
them  as  his  sons ;  and  they,  in  turn,  vowed  to  love  and 
honor  him  as  their  father  in  knighthood.  And  then, 
having  donned  their  helmets,  they  mounted  their  steeds, 
which  stood  in  readiness,  and  rode  away 
knights. 


Knighted  on  tlu  Battlefield.  79 

The  next  morning,  as  Charlemagne  rested  in  his  tent, 
be  bethought  him  of  the  shameful  conduct  of  Alory. 

"  Where  now,"  said  he,  "  is  the  cowardly  Apulian 
who  so  nearly  ruined  our  cause  yesterday  ? " 

"  My  lord,"  answered  Duke  Namon,  "  he  was  sorely 
bruised  by  the  blow  with  which  the  Dane  hurled  him 
from  his  saddle.  This,  together  with  fear  ani  shame, 
has  made  him  hide  himself  from  th*  sight  of  all  true 
knights." 

"Let  him  be  found/'  said  the  king,  "and  let  meet 
punishment  be  awarded  him  for  his  treason  and  his 
cowardice." 

Not  long  afterwaid  Alory,  having  been  dragged  from 
his  hiding-place,  was  brought  into  the  presence  of  the 
king.  When  asked  to  plead  his  excuse  for  his  craven 
conduct,  he  was  dumb :  he  could  say  nothing  in  his 
own  defence.  Then  the  peers  adjudged  him  disherited, 
and  forbade  him  ever  again  to  show  his  face  in  the 
king's  court,  or  ever  again  to  mingle  in  the  company  of 
true  knights.  But  Roland  and  Ogier,  when  they  heard 
the  sentence,  begged  leave  to  speak  in  his  favor. 

"  It  is  not  the  part  of  a  freeman,"  said  they,  "  to  take 
pains  to  forjudge  his  peer ;  nor  should  he  deal  harshly 
or  unmercifully  with  another's  weaknesses.  If  all  who 
flee  from  battle  were  disherited,  greatly  thinned  would 
be  our  ranks.  If  a  man  has  been  gifted  with  the  heart 
of  a  hare,  he  cannot  exchange  it  for  that  of  a  lion. 
Lombards  know  not  how  to  carry  the  Oriflamme  of 
France,  neither  have  they  business  to  meddle  witb 


So  Tke  Story  of  Roland. 

great  battles.  We  pray  that  Alory  be  forgiven,  and 
that  he  be  not  intrusted  again  with  duties  too  great  for 
him.'1 

Well  pleased  were  the  peers  with  these  sensible 
words  of  the  new-made  knights  ;  and  they  freely  for- 
gave the  craven-hearted  Apulian,  not  for  his  own  sake* 
for  the  sake  of  Roland  and  Ogier  the  Dane.1 

7  at  tiae  «ad  *f  ttes 


How   Ogier  won  Sword  and  Horse.        81 


ADVENTURE    VIII. 


HOW  OGIER   WON   SWORD   AND   HORSE, 

ON  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  not  more  than  a  league 
from  the  city  of  Rome,  the  French  encamped,  and 
waited  for  the  Saracens  to  sally  out  and  attack  them. 
But  the  Pagans  were  too  wise  to  risk  another  battle  in 
the  open  field.  They  had  ravaged  and  laid  waste  all 
the  country  around ;  they  had  harvested  the  corn,  and 
carried  the  grain  into  the  city ;  they  had  cut  down  the 
vineyards  and  the  orchards ;  they  had  seized  all  the 
cattle,  and  driven  them  within  the  walls ;  they  had 
stored  away  great  supplies  of  provisions,  and  made 
ready  for  a  long  siege.  The  Franks,  on  the  other  hand, 
never  having  thought  but  that  they  could  support  them- 
selves by  foraging,  were  without  food.  They  were  in 
no  condition  to  carry  on  a  siege  against  an  enemy  so 
arelx  provided.  The  king  was  in  great  trouble.  He 
saw  clearly,  that,  unless  he  could  strike  a  decisive  blow 
rery  soon,  hunger  —  a  foe  stronger  than  the  Pagan 
horde  —  would  force  him  to  withdraw.  Many  of  his 
fighting  men,  too,  had  lost  the  enthusiasm  which  they 
bad  felt  while  the  enemy  were  still  at  a  distance.  They 


82  The  Story  of  Roland. 

began  to  complain  of  being  kept  so  long  away  from 
their  homes  and  from  France  ;  and  some  of  the  weaker 
minded  knights,  led  by  the  crafty  Ganelon,  had  gone  so 
far  as  to  plot  rebellion,  and  were  planning  secretly  how 
they  might  betray  Charlemagne,  and  leave  fair  Italy  IE 
the  bands  of  the  Saracens.  It  was  plain  to  every  onet 
that  unless  the  Pagans  could  be  persuaded  to  come  out 
from  behind  the  walls,  and  risk  another  open  battle,  the 
Franks  would  soon  find  themselves  in  desperate  straits, 
and  be  obliged  to  give  up  their  undertaking. 

While  Charlemagne  and  his  peers  paused,  and  con- 
sidered what  it  was  best  to  do,  young  Chariot,  the  rash 
and  foolish  son  of  the  king,  was  trying  to  carry  out  a 
plan  of  his  own.  With  two  thousand  young  men,  hot- 
headed and  hare-brained  like  himself,  he  had  secretly 
left  the  camp  at  nightfall,  and  marched  toward  the  city, 
intending  by  a  bold  dash  upon  the  enemy  to  carry 
succor  to  the  Christian  garrison  who  still  held  the  Capi- 
toline  Fortress.  But  the  watchful  Saracens  were  not  to 
be  caught  napping.  As  the  young  prince  and  his  men 
cantered  carelessly  along  the  highroad,  thinking  how  on 
the  morrow  the  whole  world  would  ring  with  the  praises 
of  their  daring,  they  did  not  know  that  Chief  Karaheut, 
the  bravest  of  the  Pagan  leaders,  with  five  thousand 
picked  men,  was  waiting  in  ambush  for  them.  All  at 
once,  like  so  many  fierce  tigers,  the  Pagans  rushed  out 
upon  the  unsuspecting  and  unready  band  of  Chariot. 
Short  would  have  been  the  fight,  and  mournful  would 
have  been  the  end,  had  not  the  sound  of  the  first  onse* 


How   Ogier  won  Sword  and  Horse.        83 

reached  the  tent  where  Charlemagne  and  his  peers  sat 
in  council.  The  air  resounded  with  the  yells  of  the 
exultant  foe  and  the  din  and  crash  of  arms.  Quickly 
were  Roland  and  Ogier  and  their  brave  comrades  in  the 
saddle.  Very  swiftly  did  they  ride  to  the  rescue.  Chief 
Karaheut,  when  he  saw  them  coming,  called  off  his  men, 
and  withdrew  in  order  toward  Rome ;  and  Chariot, 
crestfallen  and  ashamed,  with  the  remnant  of  his  band, 
rode  back  to  the  Christian  camp.  Very  angry  was 
Charlemagne  at  the  unwise  conduct  of  his  son  :  furious 
was  he  that  the  Pagans  had  won  the  right  to  say  that 
they  had  worsted  any  part  of  his  host  in  battle.  Scarce- 
ly could  his  barons  hinder  him  from  striking  the  fool- 
hardy Chariot  with  his  mace.  But  Roland,  whose  words 
always  had  great  weight  with  the  king,  persuaded  him 
to  forget  his  anger.  It  was  not  the  French  who  had 
been  worsted  in  the  late  fight :  it  was  only  a  band  of 
rash  young  men,  irresponsible,  and  unworthy  of  atten- 
tion. Not  many  suns  should  rise  ere  the  boastful  Sara- 
cens should  know  the  true  strength,  and  feel  the  full 
force,  of  the  Christian  arm. 

The  next  day,  about  noon,  as  the  king  sat  in  his 
master-tent,  with  all  his  peers  around  him,  it  wai 
announced  that  a  messenger  had  come  from  Corsuble, 
the  Saracen  king.  It  was  Chief  Karaheut  himself. 
He  came  to  Charlemagne's  camp,  riding  on  a  mule,  and 
accompanied  only  by  two  squires.  He  was  unarmed, 
and  very  richly  dressed.  A  turban  of  red  satin  embroi- 
dered with  gold  was  upon  his  head;  a  gold-buttoned 


64  The  Story  of  Roland, 

mantle  of  purple  silk  was  thrown  over  his  shoulders ; 
around  his  neck  was  a  collar  of  rich  ermine.  Right 
nobly  sat  he  on  his  mule ;  right  royally  did  he  salute 
the  king. 

"  In  the  name  of  all  that  the  Franks  hold  dear/'  he 
add,  "I  greet  great  Charlemagne.  I  greet,  too,  th€ 
knights  and  barons  who  sit  beside  him  ;  but  above  them 
all  I  greet  Ogier  the  brave  Dane." 

The  king  and  his  peers  heard  this  greeting  in  silence ; 
but,  when  the  name  of  Ogier  was  mentioned,  the  jeal- 
ousy of  young  Chariot  waxed  so  great,  that  he  could 
scarcely  hold  his  tongue. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Charlemagne  ;  "  and  what  is 
your  errand  ? ' 

"  I  am  Karaheut,"  answered   the   Saracen   proudly 
"  I  am  the  bearer  of  a  message  from  great  Corsuble,  the 
king  of  the  faithful.     He  bids  you  leave  him  in  peace 
ful  possession  of  this  city  of  Rome  which  he  has  taken 
in  honorable  war,  and  which  is  his  more  than  your*. 
Ten  days  he  will  give  you  to  take  your  army  and  all 
that  is  yours  out  of  Italy.     If  you  go  not,  then  he  will 
meet  you   in  battle,  and  will  spare  you   not ;  neithei 
will  he  have  mercy  upon  any  who  hold  the  name  of 
Christian." 

"  Never  have  I  turned  my  back  upon  unbelievers," 
haughtily  answered  the  king.  "  We  are  ready  for  fight 
Tell  your  master  that  we  fear  not  the  issue.  God  will 
be  the  judge  betwixt  us." 

Chief  Karaheut  bowed  courteously.     "Yes,  surely," 


How  Ogier  won  Sword  and  Horse.        85 

said  he,  "God  will  be  the  judge.  But  why  risk  the 
lives  of  so  many  worthy  men  ?  Were  it  not  better  to 
settle  the  matter  without  so  much  bloodshed  ?  If  you 
will  not  withdraw  peaceably,  King  Corsuble  allows  me 
to  make  this  offer  to  you.  Let  the  bravest  man  among 
you  meet  me  in  single  combat,  and  let  the  issue  of  that 
fight  decide  who  shall  be  the  master  of  Italy.  If  I  con- 
quer, Rome  shall  be  ours,  and  you  shall  return  at  once 
across  the  Alps.  If  I  am  beaten,  the  hosts  of  the  faith- 
ful will  at  once  embark,  and  sail  back  to  their  old  homes 
beyond  the  sea,  leaving  you  in  Rome." 

"That  seems  a  fair  offer,"  said  Charlemagne,  "and 
right  willingly  do  we  accept ;  for  we  like  not  to  spill 
blood  unnecessarily.  Choose  you  now  the  bravest  man 
among  us,  and  let  the  issue  be  left  in  the  hands  of 
God" 

Karaheut,  without  more  ado,  pulled  off  his  glove,  and 
cast  it  down  at  the  feet  of  the  Dane.  Ogier  at  once 
stood  up,  and  accepted  the  challenge.  But  Chariot, 
ever  foolish  and  ever  vain,  took  him  by  the  arm,  and 
drew  him  aside. 

"Ogier,"  whispered  he,  but  so  loudly  that  he  wa? 
heard  by  the  bystanders,  "  Ogier,  it  is  very  unwise  foi 
you,  a  mere  boy,  thus  to  accept  the  gauntlet  of  battle? 
while  your  betters  are  passed  by  without  notice.  Your 
place  is  in  Denmark,  dressing  leather  and  pressing 
cheese,  and  not  in  company  with  the  heroes  of  France, 
And,  if  I  forget  not,  your  father  still  owes  fourpence 
of  tribute  to  Charlemagne,  and  your  head  has  been 


86  The  Story  of  Roland. 

pledged  as  security.  The  Saracen's  glove  was  not  in- 
tended for  such  as  you.  Stand  aside,  and  I  will  do 
the  battle/' 

Chief  Karaheut's  anger  waxed  very  hot,  for  he  de 
spised  the  base-hearted  Chariot.  "  Great  king,"  criec 
he,  "  methinks  you  have  little  to  do  to  let  your  son  thug 
browbeat  and  insult  your  barons  before  your  face." 

"The  Pagan  speaks  wisely,"  said  Duke  Namon  ;  and 
all  the  knights,  save  Ganelon,  assented.  "  For  you  we 
left  our  pleasant  homes,  our  loving  wives,  our  children, 
our  lands,  and  our  fiefs ;  and  now  your  son  openly  in- 
sults us.  Were  it  not  for  fear  of  breaking  our  knightly 
vows,  and  being  guilty  of  unfaith  toward  God,  we  would 
turn  our  faces  at  once  toward  France." 

Charlemagne  saw  the  justice  of  these  complaints ; 
and,  turning  to  Chariot,  he  reproved  him  harshly  for  his 
disrespect  to  Ogier  and  the  barons.  But  the  shallow- 
pated  prince  excused  himself,  and  still  insisted  on  fight- 
ing  the  Saracen  —  if  not  Karaheut,  then  some  othei 
Pagan  warrior  of  rank  equal  to  himself.  He  wished  to 
make  amends  for  last  night's  disgraceful  mistake.  In 
th^.  end  it  was  agreed  that  there  should  be  two  com- 
batants on  each  side,  that  Ogier  should  fight  with  Kara- 
heut, and  that  Chariot  should  have  for  his  opponent 
Prince  Sadone,  the  son  of  the  Saracen  king.  It  was 
further  arranged,  that  the  combat  should  take  place  on 
the  morrow,  in  a  grassy  meadow  near  the  banks  of  the 
Tiber,  and  that  the  fighting  should  be  with  swords 
on  foot  Then  Karaheut  rode  back  again  to  Rome, 


How  Ogier  won  Suord  and  Horse.        87 

The  next  day,  at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  Ogier  and 
Chariot  mounted  their  steeds,  and  rode  away  toward 
the  place  that  had  been  appointed  for  the  combat. 
With  great  care  had  they  armed  themselves.  Chariot 
wore  at  his  side  his  father's  own  sword,  the  trenchant 
blade  Joyeuse,  with  the  carved  hilt  of  gold  ;  and  his 
coat-of-mail  was  of  the  truest  steel.  The  Dane,  too, 
was  well  equipped,  but  only  as  a  common  knight ;  and 
the  sword  which  he  carried  was  that  which  the  kinf 
had  given  him  on  investing  him  with  knighthood. 

Chief  Karaheut  and  young  Sadone  already  waited  for 
them  at  the  meadow  Most  royally  were  the  Pagans 
armed.  Karaheut's  shield  was  of  steel  inlaid  with  gold 
and  engraved  with  many  strange  devices  and  many 
words  of  mystic  meaning.  On  the  rim  of  his  helmet 
burned  five  gem  stones,  bright  as  little  suns,  or  as 
torches  in  the  darkness  of  the  night.  By  his  side  hung 
the  world-famous  sword  called  "Short."  This  sword 
was  the  work  of  a  giant  smith  named  Brumadant,  and, 
next  to  Joyeuse  and  Durandal,  was  the  best  that  had 
aver  been  wrought  Twenty  times  over  had  Brumadant 
melted  and  welded  this  blade  ;  and  he  had  tempered  it 
n  the  blood  of  dragons  and  at  the  forge-fires  of  the 
elves.  When  he  had  finished  it,  he  tried  it  upon  a  block 
of  marble.  The  huge  stone  was  split  asunder  from  end 
to  end  :  but,  in  drawing  out  the  sword,  a  palm's  length 
of  the  blade  was  broken  off  ;  and  this  is  why  it  was 
always  called  "  Short."  And  Karaheut  prized  it  above 
every  thing  else,  for  it  was  a  very  terror  to  all  his 


88  The  Story  of  Roland. 

Sadone  was  equipped,  as  became  a  king's  son,  fair  and 
courteously :  his  helmet  sparkled  with  jewels,  and  his 
breastplate  and  shield  were  of  the  brightest  polished 
steel.  His  sword  was  a  famous  blade  that  had  been 
brought  from  the  North.  Men  said  that  it  had  been 
wrought  by  Wayland,  the  master-smith  of  the  Saxons, 
and  that  it  had  been  worn  by  many  of  the  doughtiest 
heroes  of  the  Northland. 

Together  the  four  knights  rode  across  the  meadow, 
choosing  a  fit  place  for  the  combat.  They  chatted 
together  pleasantly,  as  friends  long-tried  and  true,  rather 
than  as  foes  making  ready  to  meet  each  other  in  deadly 
fight.  Having  reached  a  smooth,  grassy  knoll,  Ogier 
and  Karaheut  dismounted ;  and  while  their  steeds  wan- 
dered about  over  the  green,  cropping  the  grass  and  the 
rich  herbage,  they  began  to  make  ready  for  the  duel. 
But  Chariot  and  Sadone,  not  altogether  pleased  with 
this  spot,  rode  onward,  seeking  a  better.  Suddenly, 
from  the  wood,  thirty  Pagan  horsemen  swept  down  upon 
them  :  they  were  men  whom  Corsuble  had  treacherously 
hidden  there  in  order  to  seize  the  Christian  knights. 
Karaheut  was  the  first  to  see  them,  and  he  cried  out 
to  the  Dane  to  defend  himself.  Chariot  put  spurs  to 
his  horse,  and  galloped  with  all  speed  back  to  Charle- 
magne's camp.  But  Ogier,  on  foot,  and  armed  only 
with  his  sword,  was  no  match  for  so  many  horsemen. 
Valiantly  for  a  time,  however,  did  he  defend  himself, 
and  more  than  one  stout  Saracen  was  unhorsed.  Yet 
soon  his  sword  was  broken,  and  he  was  forced  to  yield 


Haw  Ogier  won  Sword  and  Horse.        89 

himself  a  prisoner  ;  and,  before  Charlemagne  could  send 
him  aid,  the  treacherous  Pagans  had  carried  him  t© 
Rome,  and  taken  him  into  the  presence  of  their  king. 

In  King  Corsuble's  garden,  beneath  an  olive  tree, 
they  stripped  the  Danish  hero  of  his  armor.  Turks 
and  Persians  crowded  around  to  see  him,  as  if  he  were 
some  wild  beast  of  the  desert.  Some  were  for  putting 
him  to  death  at  once.  Others  cried  out,  "Fie,  for 
shame  1  Let  him  go  back  to  his  own  folk  I  Never 
should  it  be  said  that  we  deal  thus  treacherously  with 
our  foes."  Chief  Karaheut  begged  the  king  to  set  him 
free. 

"  It  is  a  dishonor  to  our  religion,"  said  he,  "  thus  to 
break  our  plighted  faith  with  the  Christians.  It  is  con- 
trary to  all  the  laws  of  knighthood." 

"I  hold  no  faith  with  the  Christian  dogs,"  angrily 
answered  the  king.  "  My  own  will  is  higher  than  all 
the  laws  of  chivalry.  It  is  to  this  vile  Dane  that  we 
owe  our  defeat  of  the  other  day,  To-morrow  he  shall 
be  hanged  in  the  sight  of  all  our  people," 

When  Karaheut  heard  this  answer,  he  went  away  in 
great  grief  and  anger,  declaring  that  never  would  he 
allow  so  base  and  dishonorable  a  deed  to  be  done.  And 
he  called  his  men  together,  and  bade  them  be  ready  on 
the  morrow  to  rebel  against  the  king,  who  had  shown 
himself  unworthy  of  their  fealty. 

And  now  Glorianda,  the  daughter  of  King  Corsuble- 
came  down  the  garden  walk  to  see  the  peerless  young 
hero  of  the  North.  Very  handsome  was  the 


90  The  Story  of  Roland. 

—  straight  of  body,  and  fair  of  face.  Well  clad  was  she 
in  the  costly  cloth  of  Greece,  with  a  tunic  of  purple 
embroidered  with  gold,  and  over  it  a  silken  mantle.  On 
her  feet  she  wore  narrow  shoes  of  Cordova,  colored  and 
adorned  with  Moorish  gold.  Hot  shone  the  sun ;  and 
instead  of  a  wimple  she  wore  a  jaunty  hat  on  her  head. 
Blue  were  her  eyes  ;  her  mouth  was  small,  and  sweet  as 
a  babe's.  A  fair  barbarian  was  she,  —  so  fair,  that  no 
man  on  earth  could  be  tired  of  seeing  her,  even  if  he 
gazed  forever.  When  she  saw  the  hero  Dane,  so  comely 
and  tall  and  strong,  and  heard  that  he  was  doomed  to 
die  a  felon's  death  on  the  morrow,  she  was  very  sad. 
And  she  prayed  her  father  to  spare  his  life.  But  King 
Corsuble's  heart  was  harder  than  flint. 

"  Say  not  a  word  ! '  he  cried.  "  I  have  vowed  that 
the  dog  shall  die,  and  so  it  shall  be."' 

The  next  morning,  at  break  of  day,  Chief  Karaheut 
went  again  into  the  presence  of  Corsuble  to  beg  him 
to  have  mercy  on  Ogier.  But  the  king  was  furious,  and 
more  determined  than  ever. 

14  He  shall  live  until  the  setting  of  this  day's  sun," 
said  he,  "  but  not  a  moment  longer.  And,  if  you  dare 
speak  to  me  again  in  his  favor,  you  shall  hang  with 
him." 

Then  Karaheut  went  out  of  the  palace,  and  mounted 
his  steed,  and  galloped  with  all  haste  out  of  the  city 
and  past  the  guards,  who  dared  not  question  him,  and 
stopped  not  until  he  reached  the  Christian  camp,  and 
stood  once  more  in  front  of  Charlemagne's  master-tent 


How   Ogier  won  Sword  and  Horse.        91 

"Great  king,"  said  he,  "hearken  to  me  !  I  have  coma 
to  yield  myself  your  prisoner.  You  shall  not  say  that 
I  have  betrayed  you,  or  that  I  have  been  false  to  my 
word.  I  am  here  for  you  to  deal  with  me  even  as 
iny  own  people  shall  deal  with  Ogier." 

The  knights  and  barons  were  filled  with  wonder. 

"  Here,  indeed,  is  a  gentle  Pagan  ! '    cried  they, 

"  By  my  troth,  he  is  the  worthiest  of  heroes  ! '  said 
Charlemagne.  "  Never  have  I  seen  a  truer  knight,  nor 
one  more  loyal,  or  more  perfect  in  every  knightly  virtue." 

The  day  began  to  wane.  The  sun  was  sloping  far 
toward  the  west.  Ogier,  in  his  prison  cell,  had  well- 
nigh  given  up  all  hope  of  escape.  Suddenly  he  heard 
a  great  uproar  in  the  street  below,  —  the  sound  of  tramp- 
ing feet  and  of  lusty  cheers.  He  peered  out  through 
the  grating  of  his  window,  and  saw  that  the  noise  was 
made  by  a  company  of  strange  Pagans  marching  toward 
the  king's  palace.  They  were  travel-stained,  and  seem- 
ingly weary  with  long  journeying,  and  were  dressed  in 
a  garb  different  from  any  that  Ogier  had  ever  seen.  He 
asked  his  jailer  who  these  strange  people  were,  and 
was  told  that  they  were  the  bravest  warriors  of  all 
Paynimry,  just  come  from  India  to  the  succor  of  King 
Corsuble. 

"And  who  is  the  black  giant  who  rides  before  theirs 
on  that  wondrous  horse  ? '  asked  Ogier. 

"  That  is  Brunamont,  the  King  of  Maiolgre,  the  great 
island  of  the  sea,"  answered  the  jailer ;  "  and  the  horse 
which  he  bestrides  is  the  famed  steed  Broiefort" 


92  The  Story  of  Roland. 


'  Never  saw  I  a  nobler  charger,"  said  Ogier.  "  Me* 
thinks  I  would  rather  own  him  than  be  master  of  a 
city/' 

Great  was  King  Corsuble's  delight  at  the  timely  com- 
ing of  his  allies ;  and  he  quite  forgot  that  the  Danish 
hero  lay  in  his  prison  tower,  awaiting  his  doom.  He 
thought  only  of  how  he  might  best  welcome  and  enter- 
tain the  giant  king  of  Maiolgre.  So  he  made  a  great 
feast  in  his  palace  hall ;  and  all  the  noblest  of  his 
warriors,  save  Karaheut,  were  there.  And  Brunamont, 
hideously  ugly  and  black,  sat  in  the  seat  of  honor  by 
his  side.  And  the  wine  went  freely  round,  and  both 
king  and  guests  were  very  merry. 

"  Ah,  my  sweet  friend  ! '  said  Corsuble,  embracing 
the  giant :  "  thou  hast  come  in  the  very  nick  of  time. 
The  Franks  are  now  at  our  mercy,  and  we  shall  soon 
drive  them  out  of  Italy.  Then  it  will  be  an  easy  matter 
to  cross  the  mountains  after  them,  and  drive  them  out 
of  France  also.  And  thou,  dear  Brunamont,  shalt  not 
go  unrewarded.  Thou  shalt  have  France  for  thy  por- 
tion, and  thou  shalt  be  my  son-in-law.  Here  is  my 
daughter  Glorianda,  the  peerless  pearl  of  Paynimry: 
she  shall  be  thy  wife.  —  Arise,  Glorianda,  and  salute 
thy  future  husband  I " 

Glorianda  arose,  as  she  was  bidden ;  but  she  had  no 
word  of  salutation  for  the  grim  king  of  Maiolgre. 

"  My  lord/5  said  she  to  Corsuble,  her  father,  "  it  is  not 
the  custom  for  a  maiden  who  is  betrothed  to  one  prince 
to  be  given  to  another,  and  that  without  her  consent 


How   Ogier  won  Sword  and  Horse,         93 

You  know  that  I  am  plighted  already  to  Chief  Karaheutj 
and  T  will  be  the  wife  of  none  other." 

"  Ha  !  '  cried  the  king  half -merrily,  half -angrily. 
"  When  did  it  become  the  custom  among  us  for  a  maiden 
to  choose  whom  she  would  marry  ?  Karaheut  is  a 
traitor.  And  who  is  there  here  to  hinder  me  from 
giving  thee  to  whomsoever  I  please  ? ' 

"  If  Karaheut  were  only  here,  he  would  save  me," 
said  Glorianda.  Then  she  bethought  her  of  Ogier  the 
Dane,  lying  in  prison,  and  doomed  to  death ;  and  she 
went  on,  "  but  he  is  not  here,  and  I  have  no  champion. 
Nevertheless,  there  is  that  young  Christian  whom  you 
have  in  jail,  who  I  am  sure  will' take  the  place  of  the 
absent  Karaheut,  and  defend  me  against  this  injustice. 
Let  him  be  my  champion  ;  and,  if  Brunamont  overcome 
him  in  fair  combat,  then  I  will  submit" 

King  Corsuble  was  pleased  with  this  proposal  ;  and 
the  swarthy  Brunamont,  who  had  never  been  beaten  in 
battle,  was  only  too  glad  to  show  his  prowess  by  con- 
tending in  single  combat  with  the  pale-faced  Northman. 

When  word  was  brought  to  Ogier  in  prison,  that  he 
had  been  chosen  as  the  champion  of  the  Princess  Glo- 
rianda,  he  was  highly  pleased.  "  I  would  rather  die, 
fighting  the.  Pagan  monster  with  my  fists,"  said  he, 
"  than  suffer  the  disgraceful  punishment  of  a  felon." 
And  he  sent  one  of  Karaheut's  squires  to  bear  the 
news  to  his  friends  in  the  Christian  camp.  When 
Karaheut  heard  that  the  Dane  was  to  fight  in  his  place 
against  the  giant  Brunamont,  he  begged  Charlemagne 


94  The  Story  of  Roland. 

to  allow  him  to  go  and  see  the  combat ;  and  he  pledged 
himself,  that,  in  case  Ogier  should  not  gain  his  freedom, 
he  would  come  back,  and  again  yield  himself  prisoner. 
Charlemagne  consented  ;  and  Karaheut  lost  no  time  in 
returning  to  the  city.  There  he  armed  the  Dane  in  his 
own  armor,  and  gave  him  as  a  present  the  noble  sword 
Short,  —  the  blade  which  Ogier  both  desired  and  feared 
more  than  all  things  else  on  earth. 

"Take  this  sword,"  said  he,  "and  it  shall  prove  a 
firm  friend  to  thee.  If  thou  dost  but  conquer  in  this 
battle,  it  shall  be  thy  reward." 

Very  thankful  was  Ogier ;  and  his  heart  grew  big 
with  hope  as  he  took  the  jewelled  hilt  in  his  hand,  and 
read  the  inscription  on  the  blade,  I  AM  CORTANA  THE 
SHORT.  HE  WHO  HAS  THE  RIGHT  ON  HIS  SIDE  NEED 
NOT  FEAR  THE  MIGHT  OF  THE  WRONG-DOER. 

The  place  appointed  for  the  combat  was  a  treeless 
island  in  the  middle  of  the  River  Tiber.  The  banks  on 
either  side  were  lined  with  thousands  of  men  from  both 
armies,  anxious  to  witness  the  fray.  Ogier  was  the  first 
to  take  his  place.  His  friends  on  the  farther  bank  of 
the  river  feared  greatly  the  result  of  the  combat  They 
felt,  that,  however  bravely  he  might  fight,  his  strength 
would  be  no  match  for  that  of  the  grim  giant  who  had 
already  overcome  and  slain  more  than  twenty  valiant 
kings.  They  had  not  learned  that  skill  is  stronger  in  the 
end  than  mere  brute  force.  They  beckoned  to  Ogier  to 
throw  himself  into  the  river,  and  swim  across  *"O  them- 


How   Ogier  wox  Sword  and  Horse.        95 


"Ogier,"  they  cried,  "come  to  the  host !  It  is  your 
only  chance  of  escape.  Save  your  life  while  you  may." 

But  Ogier  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  for  a  whole  valley  full  of  gold,"  said  he,  "  would 
I  do  a  deed  so  cowardly  ! ' 

And  now  came  Brunamont  to  the  combat,  riding  the 
famed  steed  Broiefort.  How  Ogier  longed  to  have  that 
noble  animal  for  his  own !  Never  had  there  been  a 
more  goodly  horse.  Black  as  midnight  was  he,  with 
a  silver  star  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead ;  and  men 
said  that  he  could  climb  the  steepest  mountain  wl/kout 
tiring,  or  run  three  whole  days  without  panting  or 
stopping. 

"  Great  Father,"  said  Ogier,  raising  his  ha  ,vds  to 
heaven,  "  thou  who  didst  form  all  the  world,  if  i  please 
thee,  give  me  the  victory  to-day  ! ' 

But  his  thoughts  were  on  the  horse. 

Brunamont  dismounted,  and  with  long  strL/es  ad 
vanced  toward  Ogier.  Scornfully  he  laughed  at  his 
foe ;  and  he  brandished  his  sword  about  his  head,  and 
thought  to  make  quick  work  of  this  combat.  But  sad 
was  his  mistake.  The  good  blade  Short  leaped  sud 
&enly  out  of  its  scabbard,  and  the  light  of  its  gleaning 
edge  flashed  hither  and  thither  like  the  play  of  'h^ 
lightning  in  the  summer's  cloud.  The  first  strokt  cut 
the  sword  of  Brunamont  in  twain,  and  left  the  giant 
but  half  armed.  The  second  stroke  cleaved  hi  >  iron 
helmet ;  and,  although  it  missed  his  brain,  it  shea/ed  ofi 
bis  left  ear,  and  laid  the  whole  side  of  his  fac*  bare 


96  The  Story  of  Roland, 

Brunamont,  who  had  never  before  felt  fear,  waited  not 
for  the  third  stroke.  He  turned  and  fled,  thinking  anty 
of  how  he  might  save  his  life.  He  leaped  into  the 
river,  hoping  to  swim  across  to  his  Pagan  friends ;  but 
the  current  was  deep  and  swift,  and  his  heavy  armor 
dragged  him  down,  and  the  waters  soon  made  for  b*m 
a  grave. 

Ogier  took  to  himself  the  horse  Broiefort,  for  he 
considered  that  he  had  fairly  won  him ;  and  there  was 
nought  that  now  is  or  ever  was  that  he  coveted  so 
much.  Charlemagne  at  once  led  his  army  across  the 
river,  and  attacked  the  asJtonished  and  disappointed 
Saracens.  Great  was  the  rout  of  the  unbelievers  ;  and 
many  of  their  bravest  warriors  were  slain,  or  taken 
prisoners.  And  on  the  morrow  King  Corsuble,  de- 
feated and  crestfallen,  withdrew  from  Rome,  and  with 
ais  whole  army  embarked,  and  set  sail  across  the  sea, 
And  Charlemagne,  after  seeing  the  pope  happily  re 
stored  to  his  place,  returned  to  France. 


Roland's  Arms.  97 


ADVENTURE  IX. 


ROLAND'S   ARMS. 

ROLAND  had  now  come  to  the  years  of  manhood. 
Among  all  the  knights  and  warriors  in  Charlemagne's 
court  he  was  accounted  the  best.  Save  only  Ogier  the 
Dane,  he  excelled  them  all  in  every  deed  and  feat  of 
arms,  in  knightly  courtesy,  in  respect  for  authority,  in 
kind  consideration  for  the  poor  and  friendless.  And 
every  one,  except  Prince  Chariot  and  Ganelon  of  May- 
ence,  praised  and  loved  him  ;  for  he  was  indeed  a  knight 
without  fear  and  without  reproach. 

Great  ca-e  was  taken  by  Charlemagne  to  provide 
armor  for  his  nephew,  fitting  for  one  who  was  destined 
to  be  a  hero.  From  the  tar  south  a  helmet  was  brought, 
—  a  wondrous  casque  most  wondrously  wrought.  Men 
said  that  it  was  the  handiwork  of  Vulcan,  the  lame 
blacksmith  of  the  golden  age,  —  the  age  when  the  gods 
still  lived,  and  mingled  with  mankind.  It  was  made  of 
steel,  inlaid  with  gold  and  pearls,  and  bound  around 
with  brass.  It  was  engraved,  inside  and  outside,  with 
strange  mottoes  and  battle-scenes,  and  legends  of 
knightly  valor.  Above  its  crest  waved  an 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


piume,  and  in  front  sat  a  golden  eagle.  Only  two  such 
helmets  did  Vulcan  make,  —  one  for  Trojan  Hector, 
the  godlike  hero  of  that  ancient  day;  and  the  other 
for  the  noblest  knight  of  later  times. 

The  war  coat  which  Roland  wore  had  been  brought 
from  the  far  North,  and  was  such  as  the  men  of  France 
had  never  before  seen.  They  said  that  it  was  the  work 
of  Wayland,  the  master-smith  of  the  Teuton  folk.  So 
curiously  had  it  been  wrought,  and  so  rare  was  the  tem- 
per of  its  steel,  that  no  thrust  of  lance,  nor  stroke  of 
sword,  could  harm  him  whom  it  incased.  The  metal  of 
which  it  was  made  had  been  digged  from  the  earth 
by  the  cunning  dwarf -folk,  who  lived  in  the  hill  caves  of 
the  North  while  yet  the  race  of  men-folk  was  young. 
It  had  been  smelted  in  the  mountain  furnaces  of  the 
giants.  Twelve  months  had  Wayland  worked  day  and 
night  at  his  forge,  beating  it  into  shape,  and  tempering 
it,  as  he  only  knew  how.  And,  when  he  had  finished  it, 
he  had  given  it  to  Beowulf,  the  Anglo-Saxon  hero,  the 
slayer  of  the  monster  Grendel  and  of  the  fire-breathing 
dragon  of  the  North.  When  or  how  it  had  been 
brought  to  France,  I  know  not.  But,  when  Roland  first 
donned  it,  it  is  said  that  men  whispered  among  them- 
selves, and  said,  "  What  need  has  he  of  such  rare 
armor  ?  Better  give  it  tc  some  one  whose  body  is  not 
already  proof  against  harm."  For  it  was  believed  that 
Roland  bore  a  charmed  life,  and  that  like  Achilles  o£ 
old,  and  like  Siegfried,  no  weapon  could  touch  or  harm 
Him  save  in  a  single  small  spot  of  his  body,  — -  some  said 


Roland's  Arms.  99 

midway  between  his  shoulders ;  others  said  on  the  bot- 
toms of  his  feet 

The  arms  which  our  hero  bore  were  in  every  way 
equal  to  the  armor  which  protected  him.  His  shield 
was  of  three  plates  of  steel,  copper,  and  gold,  bound 
together  with  bolts  of  brass  ;  and  on  it  were  emblazoned 
the  quarteri ngs  of  red  and  white,  —  the  armorial  bear- 
ings by  which  he  was  distinguished.  His -favorite  lance 
was  a  mountain  ash,  weighty  and  tough,  a  very  beam  in 
length,  and  so  heavy,  that  none  but  Roland,  or  Ogier  the 
Dane,  could  poise  it.  The  golden  spurs  which  he  wore 
as  the  sign  of  his  knighthood  had  been  given  him  by 
Morgan  the  Fay,  the  fairy  queen  of  Avalon  ;  and  I  have 
been  told  that  they  were  the  same  that  had  been  worn 
by  the  famed  King  Arthur  when  he  and  his  knights  of 
the  round  table  lived  amongst  men. 

But  the  sword  which  Roland  carried  at  his  side  was 
the  noblest  piece  of  all.  The  world  had  never  seen  a 
more  wonderful  blade  than  Durandal.  Not  Siegfried's 
Balmung,  nor  King  Arthur's  Excalibur,  nor  Charle- 
magne's Joyeuse,  nor  Ogier's  Short,  could  be  compared 
with  it  in  beauty  and  true  worth.  It  was  the  sword 
which  Hector,  the  mighty  prince  of  Troy,  had  wielded 
50  valiantly  in  battle  with  the  Greeks.  From  Vulcan's 
fotge  it  had  come,  where  the  lame  smith  ^od  had  tem- 
pered it  in  the  flames  of  Tartarus.  Neither  wood,  nor 
stone,  nor  any  metal,  could  turn  its  razor  edge :  no  war 
coat,  nor  helmet  of  steel,  could  withstand  its  stroke 
On  one  of  its  bright  blue  sides  were  many  mystic 


i  GO  The  £>tory  of  Roland, 

carved, — words  which  the  Trojans  knew,  but  which 
had  long  ago  been  forgotten,  and  which  none  but  sooth- 
sayers could  now  make  out.  Malagis  the  dwarf  read 
them  :  "  LxiT  HONOR  BE  TO  HIM  WHO  MOST  DESERVETH 
fT."  On  the  other  side  were  the  words  which  I  have 
elsewhere  quoted,  —  "I  AM  DURANDAL,  WHICH  TROJAN 
HECTOR  WORE,"  — written  in  Latin.  It  is  said  by  some, 
that  once,  when  Charlemagne  was  in  the  valley  of  Mau- 
riveinej  an  angel — or  more  likely  a  fairy  —  gave  this 
sword  to  him,  and  told  him  to  gird  it  on  a  young  knight 
who  had  never  known  fear  or  reproach.  Others  say, 
that,  after  the  death  of  Hector  at  the  hands  of  the 
wrathful  Achilles,  this  wondrous  blade  had  been  taken 
and  kept  by  fair  Penthiselea,  Queen  of  Persia ;  and  that 
from  her  it  had  been  handed  down,  age  after  age,  from 
one  generation  to  another,  to  be  wielded  by  the  worthi- 
est of  Persia's  Pagan  princes  ;  and  that  at  last  Charle- 
magne had  wrested  it  from  the  unbelievers,  and  kept  it 
to  endow  his  loved  nephew.  Let  it  be  as  it  may,  we 
know  that  the  king  gave  it  to  Roland  when  he  invested 
him  with  knighthood,  and  that  Roland  proved  himself 
well  worthy  of  the  gift. 

Next  to  the  sword  Durandal,  the  thing  which  Roland 
prized  the  most  was  an  ivory  horn  which  he  wore  hung 
from  his  neck  by  a  golden  chain.  This  horn  had  been 
made  from  the  tooth  of  a  sea-horse,  or,  what  is  more 
likely,  the  tusk  of  a  unicorn  ;  and  it  was  set  thick  with 
pearls  and  priceless  gem-stones,  and  inlaid  with  silver 
and  gold.  Old  stories  are  not  quite  clear  as  to  how  01 


Roland's  Arms.  101 


where  Roland  got  this  wondrous  horn ;  but  I  have  heard 
that  it,  too,  was  a  gift  from  the  king.  Charlemagne  had 
long  prized  it  as  a  rare  treasure,  not  only  on  account  ol 
its  great  beauty  and  its  workmanship,  but  also  because 
of  the  wonderful  music  which  was  said  to  issue  from  it 
when  blown  by  any  one  who  was  strong  enough  to 
sound  it.  Yet  nobody  in  Charlemagne's  time  had  ever 
heard  it.  The  stoutest  knights  who  came  to  Paris  or  to 
Aix  were  challenged  to  blow  upon  it,  and  the  king 
promised  to  give  the  beautiful  instrument  to  him  who 
could  first  make  the  slightest  sound  come  out  of  it. 
And,  although  some  had  split  their  lungs  in  trying,  no 
one  had  ever  succeeded  in  making  a  single  note.  On 
an  idle  day  in  winter,  the  king  by  chance  bethought 
him  of  challenging  Roland  to  blow. 

"Dear  nephew,"  said  he,  "you  have  never  yet  been 
beaten  in  tourney  or  in  fight,  nor  have  you  ever  failed 
in  any  thing  you  have  undertaken.  I  have  here  some- 
thing that  will  test  your  strength.  It  is  the  horn  of  my 
grandfather,  the  great  Charles  the  Hammer.  In  his 
days,  when  men  were  stronger  and  seemingly  more  val- 
iant than  now,  the  most  wondrous  sounds  were  made  tc 
come  out  of  it.  I  have  heard  it  said  that  these  sounds 
had  all  the  sweetness  of  angels7  songs  coupled  with  the 
deafening  din  of  the  thunder's  crash.  And,  indeed, 
some  slanderers  once  whispered  that  it  was  the  sound 
of  this  horn,  rather  than  his  own  valor  or  that  of  his 
fighting  men,  that  won  for  Charles  the  Hammer  that 
grand  victory  over  the  Saracens  at  Poictiers  which  has 


1O2  The  Story  of  Roland. 

made  his  name  so  famous.  But  men  have  grown  won- 
drous weak  of  lungs,  and  not  a  knight  in  all  France  can 
blow  the  horn  now." 

Roland  took  the  ivory  bugle  in  his  hands,  and  ad- 
mired its  rare  beauty.  Then  he  put  it  to  his  mouth 
and  blew.  A  sound  more  wonderful  than  any  man  then 
living  had  ever  heard  came  forth,  and  filled  the  hall  and 
the  great  palace,  and  rolled  out  through  the  gates  into 
the  streets  and  over  the  country,  and  was  carried  from 
city  to  castle,  and  from  castle  to  countryside,  and 
through  the  forests,  and  over  the  mountains,  until  the 
whole  land,  for  leagues  and  leagues  around,  echoed  and 
re-echoed  with  the  wondrous  vibrations.  Never  were 
folk  more  astonished  than  those  who  heard  this  sound. 
Men,  women,  and  children  stood  in  utter  amazement, 
holding  their  hands  to  their  ears,  afraid  to  listen,  and 
yet  wishing  to  hear.  Some  thought  that  the  heavens 
were  falling,  and  that  the  end  of  the  world  had  come. 
Others  wondered  what  kind  of  thunder  this  was,  which, 
with  all  its  deafening  clangor,  was  sweeter  than  music. 
The  king,  with  hasty  gestures,  begged  Roland  to  stop 
Kowing ;  but,  after  he  had  ceased,  the  sound  continued 
for  a  long  time  to  reverberate  among  the  castle  towers, 
and  from  hill  to  hill,  and  from  earth  to  sky,  like  the 
distant  rolling  of  the  thunder  after  a  summer  stona 
has  passed  over  our  heads. 

"The  horn  is  yours,"  said  the  king,  delighted  and 
amazed.  "  You  have  fairly  won  the  horn  of  Char  lea 
the  Hammer,  and  no  one  can  ever  gainsay  your  right 


Roland's  Arms.  103 

to  it.  But  I  give  it  to  you  only  on  condition  that  you 
shall  never  blow  it,  save  in  battle  and  in  time  of  the 
utmost  need." 

That  same  evening,  as  Charlemagne  and  his  house* 
^lold  sat  in  the  well-warmed  hall  of  the  palace,  and  be- 
guiled the  hours  with  music  and  mirth,  a  minstrel  sang 
to  them  the  Song  of  the  Lorrainers  ;  *  and  he  told  them 
of  the  gallant  sons  of  Hervi,  of  Garin,  and  Bego  of 
Belin,  who,  he  said,  was  the  last  knight  who  had  car- 
ried the  ivory  bugle  of  Charles  the  Hammer. 

THE  STORY. 

Charles  the  Hammer  was  dead,  and  his  young  son 
Pepin  was  king  of  France.  Bego  of  Belin  was  his  dear- 
est friend,  and  to  him  he  had  given  all  Gascony  in  fief. 
You  would  have  far  to  go  to  find  the  peer  of  the  valiant 
Bego.  None  of  King  Pepin's  nobles  dared  gainsay 
him.  Rude  in  speech  and  rough  in  war,  though  he 
was,  he  was  a  true  knight,  gentle  and  loving  to  his 
friends,  very  tender  to  his  wife  and  children,  kind  to 
his  vassals,  just  and  upright  in  all  his  doings.  The 
very  flower  of  knighthood  was  Bego. 

Bitter  feuds  had  there  been  between  the  family  of 
Beg©  and  that  of  Fromont  of  Bordeaux.  Long  time 
had  these  quarrels  continued,  and  on  both  sides  much 
blood  had  been  spilled.  But  now  there  had  been  peace 
between  them  for  ten  years  and  more,  and  the  old 
hatred  was  being  forgotten, 

Note  8  at  the  end  ot  this 


1O4  frhe  Story  of  Roland. 

One  day  Bego  sat  in  his  lordly  castle  at  Bel  in ;  and 
beside  him  was  his  wife,  the  fair  Beatrice.  In  all 
France  there  was  not  a  happier  man.  From  the  win- 
dows the  duke  looked  out  upon  his  broad  lands  and  the 
rich  farms  of  his  tenants.  As  far  as  a  bird  could  fly 
in  a  day,  all  was  his ;  and  his  vassals  and  serving-men 
were  numbered  by  the  tens  of  thousands.  "  What 
more,"  thought  Bego,  "  could  the  heart  of  man  wish  or 
pray  for  ? '  His  two  young  sons  came  bounding  into 
the  hall,  —  Germ,  the  elder  born,  fair-haired  and  tall, 
brave  and  gentle  as  his  father;  and  Hernaudin,  the 
younger,  a  child  of  six  summers,  his  mother's  pet,  and 
the  joy  of  the  household.  With  them  were  six  other 
lads,  sons  of  noblemen ;  and  all  together  laughed  and 
played,  and  had  their  boyish  pleasure. 

When  the  duke  saw  them,  he  remembered  his  own 
boyhood  days  and  the  companions  who  had  shared  his 
sports,  and  he  sighed.  The  fair  Beatrice  heard  him, 
and  she  said,  "  My  lord,  what  ails  you,  that  you  are  so 
thoughtful  to-day?  Why  should  rich  duke  like  you 
sigh,  and  seem  sad  ?  Great  plenty  of  gold  and  silver 
have  you  in  your  coffers ;  you  have  enough  of  the  vair 
ind  the  gray,1  of  hawks  on  their  perches,  of  mules  and 
palfreys  and  war  steeds ;  you  have  overcome  all  your 
foes,  and  none  dare  rise  up  against  you.  All  within 
six  days'  journey  are  your  vassals.  What  more  would 
you  desire  to  make  you  happy  ? ' 

1  The  9*ir  *nd  the  gray,  —  furs  used  for  garments,  and  in  heraldry.  V?ir  is 
the  skin  of  the  squirrel,  and  was  arranged  ia  shields  of  blue  and  white  alternating. 


Roland's  Slrms.  105 


"Sweet  lady,"  answered  Bego,  "you  have  spoken 
truly.  I  am  rich,  as  the  world  goes  ;  but  my  wealth  is 
not  happiness.  True  wealth  is  not  of  money,  of  the 
vair  and  the  gray,  of  mules,  or  of  horses.  It  is  of  kins- 
folk and  friends.  The  heart  of  a  man  is  worth  more 
thar  all  the  gold  of  a  country.  Had  it  not  been  for  my 
friends,  I  would  have  been  put  to  shame  long  ago.  The 
king  has  given  me  this  fief,  far  from  my  boyhood's 
home,  where  I  see  but  few  of  my  old  comrades  and 
helpers.  I  have  not  seen  my  brother  Garin,  the  Lor- 
rainer,  these  seven  years,  and  my  heart  yearns  to  behold 
him.  Now,  methinks,  I  will  go  to  him,  and  I  will  see 
his  son,  the  child  Girbert,  whom  I  have  never  seen." 

The  Lady  Beatrice  said  not  a  word,  but  the  tears 
began  to  well  up  sadly  in  her  eyes. 

"  In  the  wood  of  Puelle,"  said  Bego,  after  a  pause, 
"  there  is  said  to  be  a  wild  boar,  the  largest  and  fiercest 
ever  seen.  He  outruns  the  fleetest  horses.  No  man 
can  slay  him.  Methinks,  that  if  it  please  God,  and  I 
live,  I  will  hunt  in  that  wood,  and  I  will  carry  the  head 
of  the  great  beast  to  my  brother  the  Lorrainer." 

Then  Beatrice,  forcing  back  her  tears,  spoke.  "  Sir," 
said  she,  "  what  is  it  thou  sayest  ?  The  wood  of  Puelle 
is  in  the  land  of  Count  Baldwin,  and  thou  knowest  that 
he  was  slain  by  thee  in  those  unhappy  wars  long  time 
ago ;  but  I  have  been  told  that  he  left  a  son,  who  has 
sworn  to  avenge  him.  The  wood  is  also  in  the  march 
of  Fromont  the  chief,  and  he  owes  thee  a  great  grudge. 
He  would  be  too  glad  to  do  thee  haim.  I  pray  thee  do 


/o6  The  Story  of  Roland. 

not  undertake  this  hunt.  My  heart  tells  me,  —  I  will 
not  hide  the  truth  from  thee,  —  my  heart  tells  me,  that 
if  thou  goest  thither  thou  shalt  never  come  back  alive." 

But  the  duke  laughed  at  her  fears ;  and  the  more  she 
tried  to  dissuade  him,  the  more  he  set  his  mind  on  see- 
ing his  brother  the  Lorrainer,  and  on  carrying  to  him 
the  head  of  the  great  wild  boar  of  Puelle.  Neithei 
prayers  nor  tears  could  turn  him  from  his  purpose.  All 
the  gold  in  the  world,  he  said,  would  not  tempt  him  to 
give  up  the  adventure. 

So  on  the  morrow  morning,  before  the  sun  had  fairly 
risen,  Bego  made  ready  to  go.  As  this  was  no  warlike 
enterprise,  he  dressed  himself  in  the  richest  garb  of 
knightly  hero,  —  with  mantle  of  ermine,  and  spurs  of 
gold.  With  him  he  took  three  dozen  huntsmen,  all 
skilled  in  the  lore  of  the  woods,  and  ten  packs  of  hunt- 
ing hounds.  He  had,  also,  ten  horses  loaded  with  gold 
and  silver  and  costly  presents,  and  more  than  a  score 
of  squires  and  serving-men.  Tenderly  he  bade  fair 
Beatrice  and  his  two  young  sons  good-by.  Ah,  what 
grief !  Never  was  he  to  see  them  more. 

Going  by  way  of  Orleans,  Bego  stopped  a  day  with 
his  sister,  the  lovely  Helois.  Three  days  he  tarried  at 
Paris,  the  honored  guest  of  the  king  and  queen.  Then 
pushing  on  to  Valenciennes,  which  was  on  the  borders 
of  the  great  forest,  he  took  up  lodging  with  a  rich 
burgher  called  Berenger  the  gray. 

"Thou  hast  many  foes  in  these  parts,"'  said  th* 
burgher,  "  and  thou  wouldst  do  well  to  ware  of  them  ' 


Roland's  Arms.  107 

Bego  only  laughed  at  the  warning.  "  Didst  thou  ever 
£now  a  Gascon  to  shun  danger  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  have 
heard  of  the  famed  wild  boar  of  Puelle,  and  I  mean  to 
hunt  him  in  this  wood.  Neither  friends  nor  foes  shall 
hinder  me." 

On  the  morrow  Berenger  led  the  duke  and  his  party 
into  the  wood,  and  showed  them  the  lair  of  the  oeast 
Out  rushed  the  monster  upon  his  foes ;  then  swiftly  he 
fled,  crashing  through  brush  and  brake,  keeping  well 
out  of  the  reach  of  the  huntsmen,  turning  every  now 
and  then  to  rend  some  too  venturesome  hound.  For 
fifteen  leagues  across  the  country  he  led  the  chase. 
One  by  one  the  huntsmen  lost  sight  of  him.  Toward 
evening  a  cold  rain  came  up ;  and  they  turned,  and  rode 
back  toward  Valenciennes.  They  had  not  seen  the 
duke  since  noon.  They  supposed  that  he  had  gone 
back  with  Berenger.  But  Bego  was  still  riding  through 
the  forest  in  close  pursuit  of  the  wild  boar.  Only  three 
hounds  kept  him  company.  The  beast  was  well-nigb 
wearied  out,  and  the  duke  knew  that  he  could  not  gc 
much  farther.  He  rode  up  close  behind  him  ;  and  the 
fierce  animal,  his  mouth  foaming  with  rage,  turned  furi 
$usly  upon  him.  But  the  knight,  with  a  well-aimec 
thrust  of  his  sword,  pierced  the  great  beast  through 
the  heart. 

By  this  time,  night  was  falling.  The  duke  knew  tha1 
he  was  very  far  from  any  town  or  castle,  but  he  hopec 
that  some  of  his  men  might  be  within  call.  He  tooi 
his  horn,  and  blew  it  twice  full  loudly.  But  his  hunt.* 


io8  T/ie  Story  of  KoLand. 

men  were  now  riding  into  Valenciennes ;  nor  did  they 
think  that  they  had  left  their  master  behind  them  in 
the  wood.     With  his  flint  the  duke  kindled  a  fire  be 
neath  an  aspen  tree,  and  made  ready  to  spend  the  night 
oear  the  place  where  the  slain  wild  boar  lay. 

The  forester  who  kept  the  wood  heard  the  sound 
of  Bego's  horn,  and  saw  the  light  of  the  fire  gleaming 
through  the  trees.  Cautiously  he  drew  nearer.  He 
was  surprised  to  see  a  knight  so  richly  clad,  with  his 
silken  hose  and  his  golden  spurs,  his  ivory  horn  hang- 
ing from  his  neck  by  a  blue  ribbon.  He  noticed  the 
great  sword  that  hung  at  Bego's  side.  It  was  the  fairest 
and  fearfullest  weapon  he  had  ever  seen.  He  hastened 
as  fast  as  he  could  ride  to  Lens,  where  Duke  Fromont 
dwelt ;  but  he  spoke  not  a  word  to  Fromont.  He  took 
the  steward  of  the  castle  aside,  and  told  him  of  what  he 
had  seen  in  the  wood. 

"  He  is  no  common  huntsman,"  said  the  forester ; 
"  and  you  should  see  how  richly  clad  he  is.  No  king 
was  ever  arrayed  more  gorgeously  while  hunting.  And 
his  horse  —  I  never  saw  a  better." 

"  But  what  is  all  this  to  me  ? '  asked  the  steward. 
"If  he  is  trespassing  in  the  forest,  it  is  your  duty  to 
bring  him  before  the  duke/' 

"Ah!  it  is  hard  for  you  to  understand,"  answered 
the  forester.  "  Methinks  that  if  our  master  had  the 
boar,  the  sword,  and  the  horn,  he  would  let  me  keep 
the  clothing,  and  you  the  horse,  and  would  trouble  us 
with  but  few  questions," 


Roland's  Arms.  109 

"Thou  art  indeed  wise,"  answered  the  steward. 
And  he  at  once  called  six  men,  whom  he  knew  he  could 
trusc  to  any  evil  deed,  and  told  them  to  go  with  the 
fore&ter. 

"And,  if  you  find  any  man  trespassing  in  Duke 
Fremont's  wood,  spare  him  not,"  he  added, 

In  the  morning  the  ruffians  came  to  the  place  where 
Duke  Bego  had  spent  the  night.  They  found  him  sit- 
ting not  far  from  the  great  beast  which  he  had  slain, 
while  his  horse  stood  before  him,  and  neighed  with  im- 
patience, and  struck  his  hoofs  upon  the  ground.  They 
asked  him  who  gave  him  leave  to  hunt  in  the  wood  of 
Puelle. 

"  I  ask  no  man's  leave  to  hunt  where  it  pleases  me," 
he  answered. 

They  told  him  then  that  the  lordship  of  the  wood  was 
with  Fremont,  and  that  he  must  go  with  them,  as  their 
prisoner,  to  Lens. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Bego.  "  I  will  go  with  you.  If  I 
have  done  aught  of  wrong  to  Fromont  the  old,  I  arn 
willing  to  make  it  right  with  him.  My  brother  Garin, 
•he  Lorrainer,  and  King  Pepin,  will  go  my  surety." 

Then,  looking  around  upon  the  villainous  faces  of 
the  men  who  had  come  to  make  prisoner  of  him,  he 
bethought  himself  for  a  moment. 

"  No,  no  ! '  he  cried.  "  Never  will  I  yield  me  to  si* 
such  rascals.  Before  I  die,  I  will  sell  myself  full  deai. 
Yesterday  six  and  thirty  knights  were  with  me,  and 
master  huntsmen,  skilled  in  all  the  lore  of  the  wood. 


no  The  Story  of  Roland. 

^••^•••^•••••••••••••••••...ii.!      .  .•-•^^—    ill         •    .  .m     •  n  !••••••••••— ^—•••••^•^-••••••~ -.^^— ••••-..   •.    !!•••!  i  i   UNI    jn~n»^ 

Noble  men  were  they  all ;  for  not  one  of  them  but  held 
in  fief  some  town  or  castle  or  rich  countryside.  They 
will  join  me  ere  long." 

"  He  speaks  thus,  either  to  excuse  himself  or  to 
frighten  us,"  said  one  of  the  men ;  and  he  went  boldly 
forward,  and  tried  to  snatch  the  horn  from  Bego's  neck. 
The  duke  raised  his  fist,  and  knocked  him  senseless  tc> 
the  ground. 

"  Never  shall  ye  take  horn  from  count's  neck ! '  he 
cried. 

Then  all  set  upon  him  at  once,  hoping  that  by  their 
numbers  they  might  overpower  him.  But  Bego  dre^ 
his  sword,  and  struck  valiantly  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left  of  him.  Three  of  the  villains  were  slain  outright ; 
and  the  rest  took  to  their  heels  and  fled,  glad  to  escape 
such  fury. 

And  now  all  might  have  been  well  with  Duke  Bego. 
But  a  churl,  armed  with  a  bow,  and  arrows  of  steel,  was 
hidden  among  the  trees.  When  he  saw  his  fellows  put 
to  flight,  he  drew  a  great  steel  bolt,  and  aimed  it  at  the 
duke.  Swiftly  sped  the  arrow  toward  the  noble  targe  • 
too  truly  was  it  aimed.  The  duke's  sword  fell  from 
y§  hands  :  the  master -vein  of  his  heart  had  been  cut 
in  twain.  He  lifted  his  hands  toward  heaven,  and 
prayed  :  — 

"Almighty  Father,  who  always  wert  and  art,  have 
pity  on  my  soul.  —  Ah,  Beatrice !  thou  sweet,  gentle 
wife,  never  more  shalt  thou  see  me  under  heaven.— 
Fair  brother  Garin  of  Lorraine,  never  shall  I  be  with 


Roland's  Arms.  in 

thee  to  serve  thee.  —  My  two  noble  boys,  if  I  had  lived, 
you  should  have  been  the  worthiest  of  knights  :  now, 
may  Heaven  defend  you  ! ' 

After  a  while  the  churl  and  the  three  villains  came 
near  him,  and  found  him  dead,.  It  was  no  comraoi 
huntsman  whom  they  had  killed,  but  a  good  knight,  — 
the  loyalest  and  the  best  that  ever  God's  sun  shone 
upon.  They  took  the  sword  and  the  horn  and  the  good 
steed  ;  they  loaded  the  boar  upon  a  horse ;  and  all  re- 
turned to  Lens.  But  they  left  Bego  in  the  forest,  and 
with  him  his  three  dogs,  who  sat  around  him,  and 
howled  most  mournfully,  as  if  they-knew  they  had  lost 
their  best  friend. 

The  men  carried  the  great  boar  into  the  castle  of 
Lens,  and  threw  it  down  upon  the  kitchen  hearth.  A 
wonderful  beast  he  was :  his  sharp,  curved  tusks  stuck 
out  full  a  foot  from  his  mouth.  The  serving-men  and 
the  squires  crowded  around  to  see  the  huge  animal ; 
then,  as  the  news  was  told  through  the  castle,  many 
fair  ladies  and  knights,  and  the  priests  from  the  chapel, 
came  in  to  view  the  sight.  Old  Duke  Fromont  heard 
the  uproar,  and  came  in  slippers  and  gown  to  ask  what 
It  all  meant. 

"  Whence  came  this  boar,  this  ivory  horn,  thi§ 
aword?"  he  inquired.  "This  horn  never  belonged  to 
a  mere  huntsman.  It  looks  like  the  wondrous  horn 
that  King  Charles  the  Hammer  had  in  the  days  of  my 
father.  There  is  but  one  knight  now  living  that  can 
blow  it ;  and  he  is  far  away  in  Gascon y.  Tell  me  wbera 
vou  got  these  things  ' 


H2  The  Story  of  Roland. 

Then  the  forester  told  him  all  that  had  happened  in 
the  wood,  coloring  the  story,  of  course,  so  as  to  excuse 
himself  from  wrong  doing. 

"  And  left  ye  the  slain  man  in  the  wood  ? "  asked  the 
old  duke.  "  A  more  shameful  sin  I  have  sever  known 
than  to  leave  him  there  for  the  wolves  to  eat.  Go  ye 
back  at  once,  and  fetch  him  hither.  To-night  he  shall 
be  watched  in  the  chapel,  and  to-morrow  he  shall  be 
buried  with  all  due  honor.  Men  should  have  pity  of 
one  another." 

The  body  of  the  noble  Duke  Bego  was  brought,  and 
laid  upon  a  table  in  the  great  hall.  His  dogs  were 
still  with  him,  howling  pitifully,  and  licking  his  face. 
Knights  and  noblemen  came  in  to  see  him. 

"  A  gentle  man  this  was,"  said  they ;  "  for  even  his 
dogs  loved  him." 

"  Shame  on  the  rascals  who  slew  him  I "  said  others. 
"  No  freeman  would  have  touched  so  noble  a  knight." 

Old  Duke  Fromont  came  in.  He  started  back  at 
sight  of  him  who  lay  there  lifeless.  Well  he  knew 
Duke  Bego,  by  a  scar  that  he  himself  had  given  him  at 
the  battle  of  St.  Quentin  ten  years  before.  He  fell 
fainting  into  the  arms  of  his  knights.  Then  afterward 
he  upbraided  his  men  for  their  dastardly  deed,  and 
bewailed  their  wicked  folly. 

"This  is  no  poaching  huntsman  whom  you  have 
slain,"  said  he,  "  but  a  most  worthy  knight,  —  the  kind- 
est, the  best  taught,  that  ever  wore  spurs.  And  ye  have 
dragged  me  this  day  into  such  a  war  that  I  shall  not  be 


Roland's  Arms.  113 

out  of  it  so  long  as  f  live.  I  shall  see  my  lands  over- 
run and  wasted,  my  great  castles  thrown  down  and 
destroyed,  and  my  people  distressed  and  slain  ;  and  as 
for  myself  I  shall  have  to  die  —  and  all  this  for  a  fault 
which  is  none  of  mine,  and  for  a  deed  which  I  have 
neither  wished  nor  sanctioned." 

"And  the  words  of  Duke  Fromont  were  true,"  added 
the  story-teller  as  he  brought  his  story  to  an  end. 
"  The  death  of  Bego  of  Belin  was  fearfully  avenged  by 
his  brother  the  Lorrainer  and  by  his  young  sons  Gerin 
and  Hernaud.  Never  was  realm  so  impoverished  as 
was  Fremont's  dukedom.  The  Lorrainers  and  the 
Gascons  overran  and  laid  waste  the  whole  country. 
A  pilgrim  might  go  six  days'  journey  without  finding 
bread,  or  meat,  or  wine.  The  crucifixes  lay  prone  upon 
the  ground  ;  the  grass  grew  upon  the  altars ;  and  no 
man  stopped  to  plead  with  his  neighbor.  Where  had 
been  fields  and  houses,  and  fair  towns  and  lordly  castles, 
now  there  was  nought  but  woods  and  underbrush  and 
thorns.  And  old  Duke  Fromont,  thus  ruined  through 
no  fault  of  his  own,  bewailed  his  misfortunes,  and  said 
to  his  friends^  'I  have  not  land  enough  to  rest  upon 
or  to  lie  upon 


14  The  Story  gf  Roland. 


ADVENTURE  X. 


A   ROLAND   FOR   AN   OLIVER. 

CHARLEMAGNE  held  high  festival  at  Paris.  It  was  in 
thanksgiving  for  the  victories  with  which  his  arms  had 
everywhere  been  blessed.  Once  more  the  foes  of  Chris- 
tendom had  been  driven  from  Christian  soil ;  once  more 
did  peace  and  prosperity  seem  to  smile  upon  France. 
And  the  king  had  summoned  the  worthiest  barons  and 
warriors  of  his  realm  to  award  to  each  some  fitting 
recompense  for  his  services  and  good  faith. 

Among  the  knights  who  had  come  to  Paris  was  old 
Count  Gerard,  the  grandfather  of  Oliver,  and  one  of  tht 
most  powerful  barons  of  France.  He  had  come  to 
renew  his  homage  for  his  ancient  fief  of  Viana ;  and  he 
hoped  that  the  king,  as  a  reward  for  his  lifelong  services, 
would  grant  him  now  the  vacant  fief  of  Burgundy. 
Bat.  from  some  reason  best  known  to  himself,  Charle 
tnagne  failed  to  invest  him  with  the  wished-for  duke- 
dom. Some  say  that  it  was  til  the  result  of  an  awkward 
accident.  The  count,  they  say,  after  doing  homage  for 
Viana,  stooped,  as  was  the  custom  in  those  timesf  to 
kiss  the  king's  foot  But,  greatly  to  his  chagrin,  he 


A  Roland  for  an   Oliver.  115 

stumbled,  and  his  lips  touched  the  foot  of  the  queen, 
who  was  sitting  by  the  side  of  Charlemagne.  The 
knights  who  stood  around  were  much  amusea,  and 
could  not  forbear  laughing  at  the  unlucky  count ;  but 
the  king,  in  anger,  told  him  that  the  fief  of  Burgundy 
had  already  been  granted  to  a  younger  and  more  cour 
ieous  knight,  and  that  he  must  content  himself  with 
Viana  until  he  had  learned  better  manners.  Count 
Gerard,  boiling  over  with  rage,  turned  upon  his  heel, 
and  strode  out  of  the  palace.  He  called  his  men  to 
gether,  mounted  his  horse,  and  set  out  with  all  speed 
for  Viana. 

It  matters  riot  whether  this  story  be  true  or  not,  we 
know  that  Count  Gerard  rebelled  against  the  king, 
and  declared,  that,  for  the  affront  which  Charlemagne 
had  offered  him,  he  would  no  longer  be  his  man,  nor 
pay  him  tribute.  He  shut  himself  up  in  the  strong- 
hold of  Viana,  which  he  victualled  and  strengthened 
with  great  care,  and  made  ready  for  a  long  and  a  close 
siege.  He  sent  also  to  his  brother  Miles  of  Apulia  and 
to  his  son  Rainier  of  Genoa,  craving  their  help.  Miles 
came  with  a  thousand  men  bearing  shields  ;  and  Rainier, 
with  two  thousand  crossbow-men.  With  Rainier  came 
also  his  son  Oliver,  boldest  of  warriors,  and  his  daugh- 
ter Alda,  beautiful  as  a  Persian  peri,  brave  as  a  Saxon 
valkyrie. 

Great  indeed  was  the  siege  which  Charlemagne 
placed  around  Viana  :  none  ever  saw  the  like  before 
And  he  vowed  that  he  would  never  leave  it,  nor  give  up 


i*6  The  Story  of  Roland. 

the  contest,  until  the  proud  Gerard  should  be  humbled 
in  the  dust  before  him.  For  nine  weeks  he  besieged 
the  stronghold,  and  allowed  no  one  to  come  in  or  to  go 
out ;  and  yet  so  well  supplied  was  the  garrison  with  all 
things  needful  for  life  and  comfort  that  they  cared  but 
little  for  the  blockade.  Neither  besiegers  nor  besieged 
spared  any  pains  to  annoy  one  another.  If  Charle- 
magne's warriors  dared  approach  too  near  the  walls,  they 
were  driven  back  by  a  shower  of  arrows  from  the  cross- 
bows of  the  sharp-sighted  Genoans.  If  the  men  of  Viana 
ventured  outside  of  the  gates,  or  beyond  the  moat,  a 
troop  of  fleet  horsemen  drove  them  back  at  the  point  of 
the  lance.  Sometimes  the  besieged  would  make  a  bold 
sally,  and  attack  their  foes  in  the  open  plain  ;  sometimes 
the  besiegers  would  try  to  take  the  stronghold  by  storm. 
But  day  after  day  went  by,  the  summer  passed,  and 
autumn  came,  and  the  war  seemed  no  nearer  at  an  end. 

Sometimes  the  Lady  Alda  stood  upon  the  ramparts, 
and  cheered  the  besieged,  or  helped  to  throw  down 
stones  and  other  missiles  upon  the  heads  of  those  who 
were  trying  to  scale  the  walls.  And  once,  dressed  ic 
full  armor,  she  ventured  out  at.  the  head  of  the  Vianese, 
and  boldly  charged  upon  the  besiegers.  One  day, 
Roland,  seeing  the  fair  lady  standing  upon  the  wall, 
rode  up  within  call,  and  asked  her  her  name. 

"  My  name  is  Alda,"  she  answered,  "  and  my  grand- 
father  is  the  Count  Gerard." 

"And  my  name  is  Roland,"  said  the  hero,  "and  my 
ancle  is  King  Charlemagne.  Never  have  I  seen  a 


A  Roland  for  an   Oliver.  117 

warrior-maiden  fairer  or  nobler  than  thou.  Never  will 
I  cease  to  love  and  to  woo  thee,  though  it  should  be 
at  the  cost  of  my  life." 

The  next  morning  Roland  fully  armed,  with  his  hawk 
perched  on  his  wrist,  rode  down  toward  the  Rhone  Ij? 
the  garden,  beneath  the  walls  of  the  fortress,  he  saw  a 
mallard  sitting.  Thinking  to  have  some  sport,  he 
loosed  the  hawk  from  his  arm.  High  into  the  air  the 
creature  sprang ;  round  and  round  above  his  head  it 
circled,  looking  down  in  search  of  prey.  It  saw  the 
mallard  in  the  garden,  and,  quick  as  an  arrow,  darted 
down  upon  it.  But,  after  it  had  struck  the  unoffending 
bird  to  the  ground,  it  seemed  not  at  all  anxious  to  come 
back  to  its  master.  In  vain  did  Roland  whistle  and 
call :  as  if  knowing  that  it  was  beyond  his  reach,  it  sat 
on  the  branch  of  an  apple  tree,  and  quietly  plumed  its 
feathers.  A  knight  in  the  castle,  seeing  the  hawk,  and 
wishing  to  have  it  for  his  own,  came  out  into  the  garden 
to  call  it,  He  was  armed  from  head  to  foot,  and  his 
visor  was  closed,  and  a  long  red  plume  waved  from  his 
helmet's  crest.  The  bird  heard  his  call,  and  flew  to 
him,  and  alighted  upon  his  wrist.  A  noble  bird  it  was, 
—the  falcon  which  Roland  petted  and  prized  more  thai? 
any  other. 

Roland  spurred  his  steed,  and  rode  as  near  to  the 
walls  as  a  prudent  fear  of  the  crossbow-men  would 
allow.  "  Sir  knight/'  cried  he  very  courteously,  "  give 
me  back  my  bird,  and  you  shall  have  fifteen  pounds 
of  gold?" 


1 18  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"Nay,"  answered  the  Knight  of  the  Red  Plume. 
11  Not  for  a  hundred  pounds  would  I  give  him  to  you, 
I  have  taken  him  fairly,  as  the  spoils  of  war,  and  I 
mean  to  keep  him.  No  usurer  shall  buy  me  with  gold." 

Then  Roland  again  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and,  heed- 
ing not  the  threats  of  the  crossbow-men  upon  the  bat- 
tlements, he  rode  boldly  across  the  field,  and  paused 
not  until  he  stood  within  ten  paces  of  the  strange 
knight,  and  close  to  the  castle  wall.  But  the  visors  of 
both  warriors  were  closed,  and  neither  could  see  the 
other's  face. 

Very  courteously,  as  became  a  well-taught  knight, 
Roland  asked  the  other  his  name. 

"  Vassal,"  answered  he,  "  my  name  is  my  own,  and  I 
give  it  not  to  strangers  or  to  foes.  You  may  call  me 
the  Knight  of  the  Red  Plume." 

"  Friend,"  said  Roland,  "  I  seek  no  quarrel  with  you. 
Give  me  rny  bird,  —  carry  it  no  farther,  —  and  we  shall 
part  in  peace,  to  meet,  perhaps,  as  foes  another  time." 

"  Ah,  indeed ! '  answered  the  stranger-knight  with 
a  sneer.  "Truly,  you  should  be  my  henchman.  A 
brave  man  you  seem  to  be !  If  you  will  serve  me  a 
year  and  a  day,  you  shall  be  knighted,  and  shall  have 
either  land,  or  fee,  or  burgh,  or  castle,  as  your  valor 
shall  deserve." 

Roland  was  deeply  angered  by  these  taunting  words, 
and  he  drew  his  sword  half  out  of  its  scabbard.  But 
then  he  remembered  that  he  had  vowed  not  to  cross 
weapons  that  day  with  any  foe. 


A  Ko land  for  an   Oliver.  119 

"  Vassal ! '  cried  he,  rising  in  his  stirrups,  "  I  pray 
you  that  for  love  you  give  me  the  bird  ;  and  I  promise 
you  that  if,  after  to-day,  you  ask  aught  of  satisfaction 
from  me,  it  shall  be  as  you  wish." 

"  The  hawk  is  yours,"  answered  the  knight,  loosing 
the  bird,  and  handing  it  to  Roland.  "  Willingly  I  give 
it  you.  But  remember  your  promise," 

"  Truly  it  shall  not  be  forgotten,"  answered  Roland. 

And  the  two  knights  parted. 

Week  after  week  passed  by,  and  still  the  wearisome 
siege  continued.  Some  say  that  Charlemagne  was 
encamped  around  Viana  for  seven  years,  but  I  think  it 
could  not  have  been  more  than  seven  months.  Never- 
theless, the  whole  country,  for  leagues  on  every  side, 
was  laid  waste ;  and  what  had  once  been  a  blooming 
garden  was  now  in  a  fair  way  to  become  a  desert, 
The  vineyards  had  been  destroyed ;  the  orchards  had 
been  cut  down  ;  the  houses  of  the  country-folk  had  been 
burned  and  destroyed.  Great,  indeed,  was  the  distress 
caused  by  this  quarrel  between  the  king  and  the  count ; 
but  the  distress  fell  upon  neither  king  nor  count,  but 
apon  the  innocent  and  the  helpless.  Ah,  how  cruel 
is  war  ! 

The  king  allowed  neither  wind  nor  rain  to  turn  him 
aside  from  his  purpose,  or  to  make  him  forget  his  vow ; 
and  all  winter  long  his  men  sat  by  their  camp  fires,  and 
surlily  guarded  the  approaches  to  Viana.  At  length, 
however,  Eastertide  drew  on  apace ;  and  the  woods 


1 20  The  Story  of  Roland. 

began  to  grow  green  again,  and  the  flowers  sprang  up. 
In  the  meadows,  and  the  birds  sang  soft  and  sweet. 
And  many  knights  bethought  them  then  how  idly  and 
vainly  their  time  was  being  spent  in  this  fruitless  war 
against  one  of  their  own  number ;  and  they  longed  to 
ride  away  in  quest  of  other  and  more  worthy  adven- 
tures. The  king  tried  hard  to  press  the  siege  and  to 
bring  it  to  a  speedy  close,  but  in  vain.  The  watchful 
and  valiant  crossbow-men  held  the  besiegers  at  bay, 
and  obliged  them  to  keep  their  accustomed  goodly  dis 
tance  from  the  walls. 

One  day  a  party  of  strange  knights  rode  into  the 
camp,  and  asked  to  see  the  king  without  delay.  They 
carne  from  the  mountain  land  which  borders  France  on 
the  south  ;  and  they  brought  stirring  news,  —  news 
which  aroused  the  zeal  of  every  loyal  Christian  warrior. 
Marsilius,  the  Pagan  king  of  Spain,  they  said,  had 
crossed  the  Pyrenees  with  a  great  host  of  Saracens,  and 
was  carrying  fire  and  sword  and  dire  distress  into  the 
fairest  provinces  of  Southern  France.  Unless  Charle- 
magne should  come  quickly  to  the  help  of  his  people, 
all  Aquitaine  and  Gascony  would  be  lost,  and  the  Pagans 
would  possess  the  richest  portion  of  his  kingdom. 

The  king  was  much  troubled  when  he  heard  these 
tidings,  and  he  called  his  peers  together  to  ask  their 
advice.  All  declared  at  once  in  favor  of  raising  the 
siege  of  Viana,  of  making  some  sort  of  peace  with 
Gerard,  and  marching  without  delay  against  the  invad- 
ers. But  Charlemagne  remembered,  that,  before  nnr].> 


A  Roland  far  an   Oliver.  121 

-  r— — • ^ —          .         -  T  .  i-  -  _.    .  _r_    IT 

taking  the  siege  of  Viana,  he  had  vowed  not  to  desist 
until  Count  Gerard  was  humbled  in  the  dust  at  his 
feet. 

" 1  have  an  oath  in  heaven,"  said  he,  "  and  1  mast 
not  break  it.  This  traitor  Gerard  shall  not  be  spared" 

"Which  were  better,"  asked  Duke  Ganelon  mildly,  — 
'  to  forget  a  vow  which  was  made  too  hastily,  or  to  sit 
here  helpless,  and  see  all  Christendom  trodden   under 
the  feet  of  accursed  Saracens  ? ' 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  sage  Duke  Namon,  "  that  the 
present  business  might  be  speedily  ended  by  leaving  it 
to  the  judgment  of  God.  Count  Gerard  knows  noth- 
ing of  the  straits  that  you  are  in  :  he  cannot  have  heard 
of  this  invasion  by  the  Saracens ;  and  he  will  gladly 
agree  to  any  arrangement  that  will  bring  your  quarrel 
with  him  to  an  honorable  end.  Let  two  knights  be 
chosen  by  lot,  one  from  each  party,  and  let  the  combat 
between  them  decide  the  question  between  you  and 
Count  Gerard." 

Charlemagne  and  his  peers  were  much  pleased  with 
this  plan ;  and  a  messenger  with  a  truce-flag  was  sent 
into  the  fortress  to  propose  the  same  to  Count  Gerard. 
The  men  of  Viana  were  not  only  heartily  tired  of  fight 
ing  against  the  king,  but  they  foresaw,  that,  if  the  siege 
were  kept  up  much  longer,  they  would  be  obliged  to 
surrender  for  want  of  food ;  for  their  provisions  were 
already  beginning  to  run  low.  So  they  very  gladly 
agreed  to  leave  the  whole  matter  to  the  decision  of 
Heaven;  and,  as  they  numbered  among  them  some  <:t 


122  The  Story  of  Roland, 


the  bravest  and  most  skilful  swordsmen  in  Christendom^ 
they  had  little  doubt  but  that  the  judgment  would  be 
in  their  favor. 

When  the  messenger  came  back  to  Chailemagne 
with  Count  Gerard's  answer,  the  king  and  his  peers  at 
once  drew  lots  in  order  to  determine  which  one  of  their 
number  should  be  their  champion.  The  lot  fell  upon 
Roland ;  and  to  him  was  assigned  the  danger  and  the 
honor  of  maintaining  the  dignity  and  authority  of  the 
king,  and  of  deciding  a  question  which  many  months 
of  warfare  and  siege  had  failed  to  settle. 

Early  the  following  morning  Roland  was  ferried  over 
to  an  island  meadow  in  the  Rhone,  where  the  knight 
who  had  been  chosen  by  the  Vianese  folk  to  oppose 
him  was  already  waiting.  He  was  surprised  to  see  that 
it  was  the  Knight  of  the  Red  Plume,  —  the  same  with 
whom  he  had  talked  in  the  garden  beneath  the  castle 
walls.  Roland  was  well  armed ;  but  instead  of  his  own 
shield  he  carried  another,  which  the  king  had  given 
him  —  one  wide  and  thick,  but  new  and  untried;  yet 
his  good  sword,  Durandal  the  terror,  slept  in  its  sheath 
by  his  side,  and  with  it  alone  he  would  have  felt  sure 
of  victory.  The  Knight  of  the  Red  Plume  had  armed 
himself  with  the  greatest  care.  His  war  coat  had  been 
wrought  by  the  famed  smith,  the  good  Jew  Joachim, 
and  was  said  to  be  proof  against  the  stroke  of  the  best- 
tempered  sword.  The  hauberk  which  he  wore  was  the 
one  which  King  ^Eneas,  ages  before,  had  won  from  the 
Greeks  on  the  plains  of  Troy.  His  buckler  was  of  fish« 


A  Roland  for  an   Oliver.  123 

skin  from  the  great  salt  sea,  stretched  on  a  fiame  of 
iron,  and  hard  enough  to  turn  the  edge  of  any  common 
sword. 

On  one  bank  of  the  river  stood  the  friends  of  Roland^ 
anxious  to  see  how  the  young  hero  would  acquit  him- 
self, and  yet  not  at  all  fearful  of  the  result.  On  tht 
other  side  were  Count  Gerard  and  Miles  and  Rainier, 
arid  the  bravest  knights  and  the  fairest  ladies  of  Viana. 
And  among  these  last,  the  fairest  of  all  was  Alda,  the 
daughter  of  Rainier,  and  the  sister  of  Oliver.  Very 
beautiful  was  she  to  look  upon.  A  coronet  of  pearls 
encircled  her  brows ;  golden  was  her  hair,  which  fell  in 
rich  ringlets  on  her  shoulders  ;  blue  were  her  eyes  as 
fhe  eyes  of  moulted  falcon  ;  fresh  was  her  face,  and 
rosy  as  dawn  of  a  summer's  day ;  white  were  her  hands, 
her  fingers  long  and  slender;  her  feet  were  well  shaped 
and  small.  The  red  blood  had  risen  to  her  face. 
Eagerly  she  waited  the  beginning  of  the  fray.  Roland, 
when  he  saw  her,  trembled  as  he  had  never  trembled 
before  an  enemy. 

The  signal  for  the  onset  is  given.  The  two  knights 
put  spurs  to  their  steeds,  and  dash  toward  each  other 
with  the  fury  of  tigers  and  the  speed  of  the  wind.  The 
iances  of  both  are  shivered  in  pieces  against  the  op- 
posing shields,  but  neither  is  moved  from  his  place  in 
his  saddle.  Quickly,  then,  they  dismount,  and  draw 
their  swords.  How  Durandal  flashes  in  the  light  of 
the  morning  sun  !  Now  does  the  helmet  which  the 
good  Jew  Joachim  made  do  good  service  for  the  red« 


124  r^e  Story  of  Roland. 

plumed  knight.  The  fair  Alda  is  overcome  with  fear. 
She  hastens  back  to  the  castle.  She  goes  to  the  chape* 
to  pray,  and  falls  fainting  at  the  foot  of  the  altar. 

Never  before  has  there  been  so  equal  a  fight.  For 
more  than  two  hours  the  two  knights  thrust  and  parry  v 
ward  and  strike ;  but  neither  gains  the  better  of  the 
other.  At  last,  however,  the  sv/ord  of  the  red-plumed 
knight  is  broken  by  a  too  lusty  blow  upon  Roland's 
helmet :  his  shield,  too,  is  split  from  top  to  bottom.  He 
has  neither  wherewith  to  fight,  nor  to  defend  himself, 
yet  he  has  made  up  his  mind  to  die  rather  than  to  be 
vanquished,  and  he  stands  ready  to  fight  with  his  fists. 
Roland  is  pleased  to  see  such  pluck,  and  he  scorns  to 
take  advantage  of  his  toe's  ill  plight. 

"Friend,"  said  he  right  courteously,  "full  great  is 
your  pride,  and  I  love  you  for  it.  You  have  lost  your 
sword  and  your  shield,  while  my  good  Durandal  has 
neither  notch  nor  blemish.  Nephew  am  I  to  the  king 
of  France,  and  his  champion  I  am  to-day.  Great  shame 
would  be  upon  me,  were  I  to  slay  an  unarmed  man 
when  he  is  in  my  power.  Choose  you  now  another 
sword — one  to  your  own  liking  —  and  a  more  trusty 
shield,  and  meet  me  again  as  my  equal." 

Roland  sat  down  upon  the  grass  and  rested  himself, 
while  the  red-plumed  knight  bade  his  squires  bring  him 
another  sword  from  the  castle.  Three  swords  were  sent 
over  to  him,  —  that  of  Count  Gerard,  that  of  Rainier 
the  Genoese,  and  Haultclear,  a  blade  which  the  Jew 
Joachim  had  made,  and  which  in  old  times  had  been 
the  sword  of  Closamont  the  emperor, 


A  Roland  for  an  Oliver.  125 

The  knight  chose  Haultclear.  Roland  rose  from  the 
grass,  and  the  fierce  fight  began  again.  Never  were 
weapons  wielded  with  greater  skill ;  never  was  there  a 
nobler  combat.  The  sun  rose  high  in  the  heavens,  and 
the  noontide  hour  came ;  and  still  each  knight  stood 
firmly  in  his  place,  thrusting  and  parrying,  striking  and 
warding,  and  gaining  no  vantage  over  his  foe.  After  a 
time,  however,  the  patience  of  the  red-plumed  knight 
gave  out.  He  grew  furious.  He  was  anxious  to  bring 
the  combat  to  an  end.  He  struck  savagely  at  Roland ; 
but  the  stroke  was  skilfully  warded,  and  Haultclear 
snapped  short  off  near  the  handle.  At  the  same  time 
Durandal,  coming  down  with  the  force  of  a  thunder- 
bolt, buried  itself  so  deeply  in  the  shield  of  the  red- 
plumed  knight,  that  Roland  could  not  withdraw  it. 

Both  knights  were  thus  made  weaponless  ;  but  neither 
was  vanquished.  Wrathfully  they  rushed  together  to 
seize  each  other,  to  throw  each  other  down.  Moved  by 
the  same  thought,  each  snatched  the  other's  helmet 
and  lifted  it  from  his  head.  Some  say  that  a  bright 
cloud  and  an  angel  came  down  between  them,  and  bade 
tbem  cease  their  strife  ;  but  I  know  not  whether  this 
>c  true,  for,  as  they  stood  there,  bareheaded,  and  face 
£o  face,  memories  of  their  boyhood  came  back  to  them. 
Both  were  struck  dumb  with  astonishment  for  a  moment 
Roland  saw  before  him  his  loved  brother-in-arms,  Oliver. 
Oliver,  now  no  longer  the  red-plumed  knight,  recognized 
his  old  friend  Roland.  Then  they  rushed  into  each 
other's  arms. 


?a6  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"  I  yield  me  ! "   cried  Roland. 

"  I  yield  me ! '    cried  Oliver. 

Great  was  the  wonder  of  Charlemagne  and  his  peers 
when  they  saw  their  champion  thus  giving  up  the  fight 
when  victory  seemed  assured.  Equally  great  was  the 
astonishment  of  the  Vianese  and  of  Oliver's  kinsmen. 
Knights  and  warriors  from  both  sides  of  the  river  has- 
tened to  cross  to  the  island.  They  were  eager  to  know 
the  meaning  of  conduct  seemingly  so  unknightly.  But 
when  they  came  nearer,  and  saw  the  men,  who  had 
fought  each  other  so  long  and  so  valiantly,  now  stand- 
ing hand  in  hand,  and  pledging  anew  their  faith  as 
brothers-in-arms,  every  thing  was  made  clear.  And 
with  one  voice  all  joined  in  declaring  that  both  were 
equally  deserving  of  the  victory.  And  Ogier  the  Dane 
stood  up,  and  said,  that,  although  the  question  between 
Charlemagne  and  Gerard  was  still  unsettled,  yet  Roland 
and  Oliver  had  acquitted  themselves  in  all  things  as 
became  true  knights. 

"  Let  him  who  would  gainsay  it  speak  now,  or  for- 
ever hold  his  tongue  ! '  he  cried. 

But  in  all  the  host  there  was  not  one  who  wished  to 
break  lances  with  Ogier,  or  to  risk  his  displeasure  by 
disputing  his  word. 

Then  the  folk  of  Viana  went  back  to  tneir  castle 
prison,  and  their  foes  returned  to  their  tents  ;  and  each 
party  began  anew  to  plan  means  by  which  this  tiresome 
and  unprofitable  war  might  be  brought  to  an  end. 

Another  week,  and  a  fortnight,  passed  by,  and  every 


_J 
O 


O 

- 


O 

< 


A  Roland  for  an  Oliver.  127 

day  messengers  came  to  Charlemagne,  telling  of  the 
ravages  of  Marsilius  the  Moor,  and  begging  him  to 
hasten  to  the  aid  of  his  people.  Very  willingly  would 
he  have  gone,  and  left  Viana  in  peace,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  remembrance  of  his  vow. 

rt  I  cannot  go,"  said  he,  "  until  this  rebel  Gerard  is 
humbled  upon  his  knees  before  me." 

One  by  one  his  knights,  tired  of  inaction,  and  pre- 
ferring to  wage  war  against  unbelievers  rather  than 
against  men  of  their  own  faith  and  nation,  stele  quietly 
from  the  camp,  and  rode  away  toward  the  Pyrenees. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  king  would  be  left,  aft?,r  a  while, 
to  carry  on  the  siege  of  Viana  alone;  yc*;  he  never 
faltered  in  his  determination  to  perform  his  vow  to 
the  very  letter. 

One  day  some  huntsmen  brought  woi  d  to  Charle- 
magne that  a  fierce  wild  boar  had  been  ?,een  in  Clare- 
naont  wood,  and  that  he  was  now  hiding  in  a  thicket  not 
far  from  Viana.  Ever  eager  for  the  chase,  the  king  at 
once  mounted  his  horse,  and,  followed  by  his  men  and 
his  hounds,  he  hastened  to  the  wood.  It  was  not  long 
until  the  grim  beast  was  driven  from  hfs  lair ;  and  the 
king,  as  was  his  wont,  gave  chase.  Duke  Gerard  and 
his  knights,  watching  from  the  towerr*  of  Viana  that 
morning,  had  seen  the  kingly  hunting  party  ride  out 
into  the  wood. 

"  Let  us  have  a  hand  in  this  hunt,"  said  Rainier  of 
Genoa.  "  We  might  hunt  for  royal  game ;  and,  could 
we  but  take  the  king,  we  might  end  this  war  on  our  OWE 


T23  The  Story  of  Roland. 


Count  Gerard  and  the  other  nobles  were  pleased. 

"I  know  a  secret  underground  passage,"  said  the 
count,  "which  leads  directly  from  the  castle  to  the 
wood.  Once  there,  we  might  lie  in  wait  in  the  thickets, 
and  waylay  the  king  as  he  passes  by." 

The  knights  at  once  girded  on  their  armor,  hung 
their  shields  to  their  necks,  and  took  their  bows  and 
arrows  in  hand.  Then,  led  by  two  trusty  squires,  who 
lighted  the  way  with  torches,  they  filed  through  the 
long,  dark  tunnel,  and  came  out  in  the  midst  of  a  briery 
thicket  in  the  wood  of  Claremont.  The  sound  of  the 
baying  hounds  told  them  that  the  game  was  not  far 
away ;  and  soon,  as  good  fortune  would  have  it,  the 
hunted  beast,  furious  with  rage,  rushed  past  them. 
Very  close  behind  him  came  Charlemagne,  riding  upon 
his  favorite  hunting-steed  and  so  intent  upon  spearing 
the  boar  that  he  neither  saw  nor  thought  of  any  thing 
else.  The  huntsmen  and  most  of  the  hounds  had  been 
left  far  behind. 

"  Now  is  our  time  ! '  cried  Rainier.  And,  quick  as 
thought,  five  well-armed  knights  rushed  out  of  the 
thicket,  and  seized  the  king's  charger  by  the  reins,  and 
called  upon  him  to  surrender.  Having  only  the  wea- 
pons of  the  chase,  and  being  set  upon  so  unexpectedly, 
Charlemagne  was  no  match  for  his  stout  assailants. 
Quickly  he  was  seized,  and  dragged  from  the  saddle  : 
firmly  but  gently  was  he  held  by  his  captors.  Then 
Aymery  of  Narbonne,  bloodthirsty,  and  at  heart  a  trai 
tor.  whispered  to  Count  Gerard,  and  advised  him  to  kill 
me 


Roland  for  an   Oliver.  129 

"  With  him  out  of  our  way,"  said  he,  "  we  shall  be 
free ;  our  fiefs  shall  be  our  own ;  and  no  man  shall  claim 
homage  or  tribute  from  us." 

But  the  count  pushed  him  aside  with  scorn. 

"  Shame  on  thee  !  "  he  answered.  "  May  it  not  please 
God  that  ever  king  of  France  be  killed  by  me :  of  him 
I  will  hold  my  castle  and  my  lands ! '  And  he  knelt 
humbly  before  the  captive  king. 

Charlemagne's  heart  was  touched  by  the  words  of 
loyalty  and  good  faith  which  fell  from  the  lips  of  the 
count. 

"Gerard  of  Viana,"  he  cried,  "all  this  trouble  be- 
tween thee  and  me  is  ended  and  forgotten.  If  thou 
hast  harmed  me,  I  freely  forgive  thee.  No  penny  of 
tribute  shalt  thou  pay  for  land,  or  fief,  or  castle.  Only 
for  the  sake  of  my  vow,  renew  thy  homage." 

Then  Gerard  ungirt  his  sword  from  his  side,  and 
uncovered  his  head,  and  knelt  again  before  the  king; 
and  he  placed  both  his  hands  between  those  of  ths 
king,  and  said,  — 

"  From  this  day  forward  I  become  your  man  of  life 
and  limb,  and  of  all  worldly  worship ;  and  unto  you  I 
will  be  loyal  and  true,  and  I  will  bear  you  faith  for  the 
lands  and  the  castles  and  the  houses  that  I  claim  of 
you.  And  to  no  other  lord  will  I  grant  obedience,  save 
at  your  behest." 

Then  the  king  raised  him  gently  from  the  ground 
and  kissed  him,  and  answered,  — 

"  Count  of  Viana,  my  man  shalt  thou  be  in  life  and 


1 30  The  Story  of  Roland. 

limb  and  worldly  worship ;  and  to  thee  do  I  grant  the 
lands,  the  fiefs,  and  the  castles  of  Viana,  to  have  and 
to  hold  without  any  payment  of  tribute,  or  any  other 
service  save  that  which  is  given  in  honorable  war." 

Then  the  other  knights,  in  the  order  of  their  rank, 
came  and  knelt  likewise  before  the  king ;  and  eacb 
in  his  turn  promised  to  be  his  man,  —  first  Rainier  of 
Genoa,  then  Miles  of  Apulia,  then  Oliver,  and  lastly  the 
headstrong  Aymery  of  Narbonne.  And  the  king  forgave 
each  one  all  the  wrong  that  he  had  ever  done  him,  and 
gave  back  to  each  all  the  lands  and  fiefs  and  tenements 
and  all  the  honors  that  he  had  held  before. 

"And  now,"  said  Charlemagne  to  Count  Gerard,  "I 
will  go  with  you,  and  sup  with  you  to-night  in  your 
lordly  castle  of  Viana." 

Great  was  the  wonder  of  the  Vianese  when  they  saw 
the  king  enter  their  halls,  not  as  the  prisoner,  but  as 
the  friend  and  gu-^st,  of  the  count.  And  great,  indeed, 
was  the  joy  when  it  was  known  that  peace  had  been 
made,  and  that  the  wearisome  siege  was  at  an  end.  ID 
the  broad  feast  hail,  a  rich  banquet  was  spread,  and  the 
night  was  given  up  to  feasting  and  music  and  merry 
making.  And  among  the  knights  who  sat  at  the  table 
there  was  none  more  noble  or  more  handsome  than 
Oliver.  And  among  the  ladies  who  added  grace  and 
beauty  to  the  glad  occasion  not  one  was  so  fair  as 
Oliver's  sister,  the  matchless  Alda. 

But  in  the  tents  of  the  besiegers  that  night  there 
was  much  disquietude  and  bewilderment.  The  hunt? 


A  Rotanct,  for  an   Ohver.  131 


men  had  sought  in  vain  for  Charlemagne  in  the  wood; 
and,  when  they  could  not  find  him,  they  came  back  to 
the  camp,  thinking  that  he  had  become  wearied  of  the 
chase  and  had  returned.  On  their  way  they  had  found 
his  horse  grazing  among  the  herbage,  with  the  reins 
lying  loose  on  his  neck.  Great  now  was  their  uneasi 
ness.  Roland  put  himself  at  the  head  of  fifty  horse- 
men, and  scoured  the  country  for  miles  around.  But 
as  the  darkness  of  night  began  to  settle  over  the  earth, 
they  were  forced  to  return,  sadder  and  more  perplexed 
than  ever,  to  the  camp.  Many  were  the  guesses  which 
were  hazarded  regarding  this  strange  disappearance  of 
the  king.  Some  thought  that  the  wild  boar,  which  was 
known  to  be  very  large  and  fierce,  might  have  turned 
upon  him,  and  torn  him  in  pieces  in  the  wood.  Others 
suggested  that  mayhap  he  had  followed  the  example  of 
his  barons,  and  ridden  away  from  this  dull  siege  to  the 
more  active  war  against  the  Saracens  ;  but  this  did  not 
seem  at  all  probable.  The  greater  number  were  agreed 
in  believing  that  he  had  been  waylaid  and  taken  pris- 
oner by  the  men  of  Viana.  And  all  were  for  placing 
themselves  under  the  leadership  of  Roland,  resolved, 
that  on  the  morrow  they  would  make  one  grand  assault 
on  the  castle,  and  carry  it,  if  possible,  by  storm. 

The  next  morning,  what  was  the  astonishment  of  the 
besiegers  to  see  the  gates  of  Viana  thrown  wide  open, 
and  the  men,  to  the  number  of  two  thousand,  march  out 
with  music  playing,  and  banners  flying,  as  if  it  were  a 
gay  holiday  !  But  greater  still  was  their  wonder  when 


132  The  Story  of  Roland. 

•••••••••••^••^•••••••i»»"»»™^»^»»-^^^^^"""""^"^™-™^^"^™"«»«"»«*"i"     •  •  •  ••^•••-a ••^•••^•^^  •!  i     i        ••^••••n  ma  w.i  i»  ig  •  •»    p* 

they  saw  that  the  knight  who  rode  so  grandly  in  the 
van  by  the  side  of  Count  Gerard  was  their  own  loved 
king.  Roland,  who  at  first  was  fearful  that  the  Vianese 
were  plotting  some  treachery,  had  hastily  drawn  up  his 
warriors  in  line  of  battle,  ready  to  defend  the  camp. 
But  Charlemagne,  as  soon  as  he  had  come  near  enough 
to  be  heard,  explained  that  peace  had  been  made,  and 
that  Count  Gerard  and  the  barons  who  were  with  him 
in  Viana  had  renewed  their  homage,  and  that  all  past 
differences  had  been  forgotten. 

After  this  the  king  held  his  court  for  seven  days  in 
the  castle  of  Viana ;  and  the  men  who  had  so  lately 
been  foes  stood  together  in  the  halls  as  sworn  friends, 
loyal  and  true.  And  the  days  were  given  over  to  merry- 
making. And  Roland  and  Oliver,  the  long  separated 
brothers-in-arms,  sat  together  in  the  hall  and  at  the 
feast  table,  and  talked  of  what  had  befallen  them  since 
the  day  when  they  plighted  their  faith  to  each  other 
among  the  hills  of  Sutri.  And,  before  the  week  had 
passed,  Roland  and  Alda,  the  sister  of  Oliver,  were 
betrothed.1 

1  See  Note  9  at  the  cod  of  ttiia 


Reinold  of  Montalban.  133 


ADVENTURE  XL 


REINOLD   OF   MONTALBAN. 

MARSILIUS  the  Saracen  had  carried  fire  and  sword 
into  the  fairest  provinces  of  Southern  France.  He  had 
pillaged  the  cities,  and  burned  the  towns,  and  ravaged 
the  fields,  and  what  had  once  been  the  pleasantest  and 
most  prosperous  of  Charlemagne's  domains  he  had 
turned  into  a  smoking  desert.  The  distressed  people 
had  sent  message  after  message  to  the  king,  begging 
him  to  send  them  help;  but  he  was  too  intent  upon 
besieging  Viana,  and  too  determined  to  redeem  his  vow 
by  humbling  the  haughty  Count  Gerard  in  the  dust 
before  him.  And  as  day  after  day  passed  by  and  the 
Pagans  still  continued  to  burn  and  destroy,  the  unhappy 
folk  began  to  lose  all  hope,  and  to  fear  that  they  had 
been  forgotten,  and  abandoned  to  the  ruthless  fury  of 
their  Saracen  foes.  What,  then,  was  their  joy,  when 
the  news  was  carried  from  mouth  to  mouth  that  the 
siege  of  Viana  had  been  raised,  and  that  Charlemagne 
and  his  knights  were  riding  to  their  aid ! 

Over  hill,  and  through  valley,  and  across  desert  wastes, 
rode  the  kingly  company ;  and  no  one  cared  for  weari 


34  The  Story  of  Roland. 


ness,  or  for  pain,  or  for  hunger,  so  long  as  the  Pagan 
folk  threatened  their  land,  and  they  were  marching  to 
the  rescue.  But,  among  all  the  knights  and  barons 
in  the  French  host,  none  were  more  impatient  than  the 
three  brothers-in-arms,  —  Roland,  and  Oliver,  and  Ogier 
the  Dane.  And  when  they  reached  that  part  of  the 
land  which  had  been  ravaged  by  Marsilius,  and  saw  the 
smoking  ruins  and  deserted  farmlands,  and  distress 
and  death  on  every  hand,  they  could  no  longer  restrain 
themselves.  They  longed  for  a  chance  to  take  ven- 
geance upon  the  hated  unbelievers. 

"The  army  moves  too  slowly,"  said  Roland  to  his 
comrades.  "Every  day  adds  to  the  distress  of  our 
people  and  to  the  fiendish  triumph  of  our  foes.  Let  us 
ride  on  faster.  We  are  mounted  better  than  those  who 
follow  us  ;  and  while  they  are  toiling  among  these  hills 
and  over  these  ill-conditioned  roads,  we  may,  perhaps, 
overtake  and  give  battle  to  some  part  of  the  Pagan 
host." 

Not  a  moment  did  his  brother  knights  hesitate ;  not 
a  word  of  dissent  did  they  speak.     They  put  spurs  to 
their  steeds,  and  with  a  few  trusty  followers  were  soon 
far  in  advance  of  the  main  army,  determined,  if  possi 
ble,  to  come  up  with  the  enemy,  and  offer  them  battle. 

Marsilius  the  Moor  had  no  sooner  heard  of  the  peace 
made  at  Viana,  and  of  the  coming  of  Charlemagne  and 
his  warriors,  than  he  ordered  an  immediate  retreat  into 
Spain ;  and  he  was  now  well  on  his  way  back  to  the 
passes  of  the  Pyrenees.  Day  after  day  Roland  and  his 


Keinold  of  Montalban.  135 

comrades  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  flying  foe.  Some- 
times, on  climbing  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  they  could 
see  the  banners  of  the  Pagan  rearguard  far  in  ad- 
vance of  them.  Sometimes,  when  a  breeze  came  to 
them  from  the  west,  they  could  hear  the  tramp  of  the 
Moorish  horse,  or  the  rough  cries  of  the  Moorish  sol- 
diery. But,  ride  as  fast  as  their  steeds  would  carry 
them,  they  could  not  overtake  the  enemy,  who,  it  seems, 
were  mounted  as  well  as  they.  And  at  last,  when  the 
great  mountain  wall  of  the  Pyrenees  rose  up  in  front 
of  them,  the  Pagan  host  had  already  entered  one  of  the 
passes,  and  had  crossed  safely  over  into  Spain.  The 
heroes  were  greatly  disappointed  because  the  foe  had 
thus  escaped  them ;  yet  they  deemed  it  the  better 
part  of  valor  to  give  up  the  pursuit,  and  to  ride  back 
to  Charlemagne  and  his  host,  who  were  still  ad- 
vancing among  the  hills  and  valleys  of  Southern 
Gascony. 

The  king  received  the  news  of  the  escape  of  Mar- 
silius  with  a  much  better  grace  than  they  expected. 

"  I  am  glad  that  he  is  well  out  of  our  way,"  said  he ; 
"for  now  I  shall  have  but  one  foe  to  deal  with,  instead 
®f  two." 

They  asked  him  what  he  meant. 

'•'Five  leagues  from  here,"  said  he,  "is  the  strong- 
hold of  Montalban,  where  my  rebel  nephew,  Reinold, 
has  taken  refuge,  with  his  brothers  and  all  the  discon- 
tented barons  of  Southern  France,  and  from  whence  he 
gives  aid  and  comfort  to  our  Pagan  foes.  I  will  not 


136  The  Story  of  Roland. 

rest  until  I  have  razed  Montalban  to  the  ground,  and 
punished  my  nephews  as  they  deserve." 

Not  long  afterward  the  host  came  in  sight  of  the 
marble  walls  of  Montalban,  glistening  in  the  sunlight 
like  a  white  star  on  the  mountain  tops.  But  who  was 
this  rebel,  Reinold,  who  dwelt  in  this  princely  castle 
on  the  borderlands  of  France  ?  I  will  tell  you, 

In  the  earlier  years  of  Charlemagne's  reign,  the 
noblest  among  the  barons  at  his  court  was  Duke  Aymon 
of  Ardennes.  Aymon  had  married  Aya,  the  sister  of 
Charlemagne  ;  and  he  had  four  sons  —  Allard,  Guichard, 
Richard,  and  Reinold  —  and  a  daughter  named  Brada- 
mant.  Upon  a  time  Charlemagne  held  a  high  festival, 
and  ordered  that  all  his  noblest  vassals  should  come 
and  do  him  homage.  All  who  had  been  summoned 
were  there,  save  Sir  Bevis  of  Aigremont,  the  brother 
of  Duke  Aymon.  The  king  was  very  angry  that  one  of 
his  barons  should  neglect  the  duty  of  renewing  his  hom- 
age. He  vowed  that  he  would  not  only  take  away  all 
the  fiefs  and  estates  of  Sir  Bevis,  but  that  he  would 
aave  him  hanged  as  a  traitor.  Duke  Namon,  ever  far- 
sighted  and  just,  persuaded  him  to  try  peaceful  tneas- 
ares  first,  and  to  send  an  embassy  to  the  absent  knight, 
summoning  him  the  second  time,  Charlemagne  sent, 
therefore,  his  own  son,  Lothaire,  with  four  hundred 
chosen  warriors,  to  demand  the  renewal  of  homage  from 
Sir  Bevis.  But  Sir  Bevis  had  resolved  that  he  would  no 
longer  be  the  vassal  of  the  king,  and  that  he  would 
hold  his  fiefs  in  his  own  right  and  by  his  own  strength 


Reinold  of  Montalban.  137 

So  he  caused  Lothaire  to  be  waylaid  in  the  forest  of 
Ardennes,  and  slain.  Very  great  was  the  anger  and 
the  grief  of  Charlemagne  when  the  news  of  this  treach- 
erous act  was  brought  to  him.  Without  any  delay  he 
summoned  his  host,  and  marched  in  full  force  against 
Aigremont.  But  Duke  Aymon  and  his  four  sons  did 
not  follow  the  standard  of  the  king.  They  preferred 
to  join  themselves  with  the  rebel  Sir  Bevis  ;  and  this 
was  the  beginning  of  the  great  trouble  which  arose 
between  them  and  Charlemagne.  Not  long  after  this,  a 
battle  was  fought,  and  the  rebels  were  routed  with  great 
slaughter ;  and  Sir  Bevis  and  Duke  Aymon  came  bare- 
footed into  the  presence  of  the  king,  and  humbly  craved 
his  mercy.  Charlemagne  agreed  to  pardon  them  if  they 
would  come  to  Paris  and  renew  their  homage.  But 
Ganelon,  ever  bent  upon  mischief,  upbraided  the  king 
for  his  forbearance  toward  his  enemies, 

"  Much  love  had  you  for  your  son  Lothaire ! "  said  he, 
•'  His  blood,  spilled  in  the  wood  of  Ardennes,  still  calls 
for  vengeance  upon  his  murderers.  But  his  father  is 
deaf :  he  cannot  hear  those  cries." 

And  he  persuaded  the  king  to  waylay  and  kill  Sir 
Bevis  while  on  his  way  to  Paris.  Duke  Aymon  and  his 
sons,  therefore,  again  took  up  arms  against  Charlemagne, 
and  a  long  and  cruel  war  between  them  followed. 

Now,  Duke  Aymon  had  a  wonderful  horse,  named 
Bayard,  —  the  noblest  steed  in  all  the  world.  Very 
large  and  strong  was  he ;  and  he  could  run  with  the 
speed  of  the  winds  ;  and  he  was  very  wise  and  knowing 


138  The  Story  of  Roland. 

One  day  this  horse  was  missed  from  his  stall ;  and 
although  the  duke  ordered  all  the  country  around  the 
castle  to  be  searched,  no  one  remembered  having  sees 
the  missing  steed,  and  he  was  not  to  be  found  anywhere. 
Very  sad  was  Duke  Aymon.  He  would  liever  have  lost 
a  thousand  men,  or  even  the  best  of  his  castles,  tha& 
this  horse.  While  he  was  musing  over  his  misfortunes, 
the  dwarf  Malagis,  who  was  his  cousin,  and  always  a 
ftrm  friend  of  his  house,  stood  before  him. 

"  Ah,  cousin  Malagis  ! '  said  the  duke.  '•  Thou  art 
the  very  man  I  wished  most  to  see.  Thou  hast  the 
gift  of  witchcraft,  and  thou  canst  tell  me  where  my 
Bayard  is." 

"  Indeed  I  can  ! "  answered  the  dwarf.  "  I  saw  him 
carried  off  last  night  by  goblins.  And  he  is  now  hid- 
len  and  imprisoned  in  the  smoky  caverns  of  Mount 
Vulcanus." 

"And  can  nothing  be  done  to  bring  him  back?' 
asked  the  duke.  "Without  my  horse  I  am  ruined." 

"  I  will  bring  him  back  to  you,"  said  the  wizard.  And 
before  the  duke  could  say  a  word,  he  had  walked  out  oi 
the  gate,  and  was  hastening  across  the  country  toward 
Mount  Vulcanus. 

After  a  toilsome  journey  of  many  days,  Malagis  came 
to  the  great  smoky  mountain  of  Vulcanus ;  and  without 
fear  or  hesitation  he  climbed  down  the  broad  chimney 
way,  and  stood  in  the  smoke-begrimed  caverns  and  halls 
where  King  Vulcan,  the  lame  blacksmith  of  the  GoldeE 
Age,  still  held  his  court,  although  most  of  his  kith  anc 


Reinold  of  Montalban.  139 

kin  had  died  long  before.  Very  courteously  did  Malagis 
greet  the  ruler  of  these  doleful  regions. 

"  Who  art  thou  ?  "  asked  Vulcan.  "  How  darest  thoi^ 
who  art  only  a  puny  mortal,  come  thus  into  the  pres* 
ence-chamber  of  the  immortals  ? ' 

"My  name  is  Malagas,'    answered  the  dwarf,  "an^ 

J  O         " 

among  men  I  am  known  as  a  great  wizard.  But  the} 
think  nothing  of  my  art.  Little  praise  get  I  for  all  m) 
wisdom." 

"  Men  are  by  nature  thankless,"  said  Vulcan. 

"So  they  are,"  answered  Malagis.  "And  for  that 
same  reason  I  have  left  their  abodes,  and  have  come  to 
'ive  with  you,  and  to  offer  my  services  to  you." 

"  What  can  you  do  ? "  asked  Vulcan. 

"  Try  me  and  see,"  answered  the  wizard. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  the  old  master  smith.  "  I 
will  give  you  a  task  that  will  put  your  cunning  to  the 
test.  A  fortnight  ago  the  mountain  goblins,  who  are 
the  only  servants  I  have  nowadays,  brought  me  a  steed, 
the  most  wonderful  that  was  ever  seen.  The  famed 
horses  of  olden  times  were  but  very  tame  creatures 
compared  with  him.  He  is  wiser  than  the  Centaurs, 
swifter  on  foot  than  Pegasus  was  on  the  wing,  fierce:- 
and  wilder  than  Bucephalus,  nobler  than  the  fabled 
GreyfelL,  Very  fain  would  I  ride  out  into  the  great- 
world  mounted  on  the  back  of  this  steed,  but  he  will 
not  let  me  come  near  him.  Now,  if  you  want  to  show 
your  skill  as  a  magician,  do  you  go  to  my  stables,  bridle 
and  saddle  this  untamable  steed,  and  bring  him  here 
that  I  may  mount  him." 


140  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  cunning  dwarf,  "  I  will  try  what 
I  can  do  with  him." 

When  Malagis  entered  the  stables,  the  fierce  horse 
ran  toward  him,  angrily  snapping  and  kicking.  But  the 
wizard  whispered,  "  Bayard,  thy  master  Aymon  wante 
thee."  At  once  the  creature  stopped.  All  the  fierce 
ness  of  his  nature  seemed  to  leave  him.  He  rubbed 
his  nose  gently  against  the  dwarf's  shoulder,  and  whin- 
nied softly,  as  if  in  answer  to  what  had  been  spoken. 
The  next  moment  Malagis  sprang  upon  the  back  of 
Bayard. 

"  To  Duke  Aymon  ! "  he  cried. 

At  one  bound  the  horse  leaped  out  of  the  enclosure, 
and  was  soon  racing,  with  the  speed  of  the  wind,  through 
the  mountain  passes  and  the  valleys,  and  the  forests  and 
morasses,  joyfully  hastening  back  toward  the  well-known 
wood  of  Ardennes.  When  the  master  smith,  Vulcan, 
saw  how  he  had  been  outwitted,  he  summoned  his  gob- 
lin host,  and  sent  them  in  pursuit  of  the  daring  wizard. 
Forth  from  the  smoking  chimney  of  the  mountain  they 
rushed  ;  swiftly  through  the  air  they  were  borne,  riding 
on  the  back  of  a  huge  storm  cloud.  The  winds  roared, 
lightning  flashed,  the  thunder  rolled.,  the  air  seemed 
full  of  evil  creatures.  But  Malagis  rode  fearlessly 
onward,  swifter  than  the  storm  cloud,  swifter  than  the 
wind,  and  paused  not  once  until  he  reached  Duke 
Aymon's  castle.  In  the  mean  while  the  duke  had  met 
with  many  sad  misfortunes.  He  had  been  beaten  in 
battle,  and  his  best  men  had  been  slain.  Some  in  whom 


Reinold  of  Montalban*  14  i 

-  "•*j"™^^^*^^™^""-™^^^"^™™™"         -* -1-- T    ' 

he  had  trusted  as  friends  had  deserted  him.  He  was 
on  the  point  of  giving  up  the  struggle,  and  throwing 
himself  upon  the  mercy  of  Charlemagne.  Great,  then, 
was  his  joy  when  he  saw  the  faithful  Malagis  return 
with  Bayard. 

"  My  wise,  trusted  cousin ! '  he  cried.  "  My  noble 
war  steed  1  Once  more  fortune  smiles  upon  me," 

And  fortune  did  smile  upon  him.  The  neighboring 
barons  came  to  his  help,  and  many  a  stronghold  and 
many  a  fair  province  of  France  acknowledged  his  mas- 
tership. At  length  Charlemagne,  tired  of  the  profitless 
war,  offered  to  make  peace  with  Duke  Aymon.  He 
promised  to  give  back  to  his  rebellious  vaasal  all  the 
fiefs,  all  the  lands  and  castles  and  burghs,  that  he  had 
held  before,  and  to  receive  him  again  at  court  with  all 
the  honors  due  to  a  brother-in-law  of  the  king. 

"  And  what  compensation  will  he  offer  for  the  death 
of  my  brother  Sir  Bevis  ? "  asked  the  proud  duke. 

"  He  will  pay  thee  four  times  the  weight  of  the  mur- 
dered Bevis  in  gold,"  answered  the  king's  messengers. 

*'  It  is  not  enough/'  answered  Aymon.  "  My  brother 
was  a  gentle  and  right  noble  baron,  and  no  paltry  blood- 
&ne  such  as  is  paid  for  the  death  of  a  common  knight 
mil  suffice.  Let  the  gold  be  six  times  the  weight  of 
the  slain  Sir  Bevis.  On  no  other  terms  will  I  make 
peace." 

When  Duke  Aymon's  answer  was  carried  to  Charle 
magne,  the  king  for  a  long  time  hesitated,  for  he  likecl 
the  payment  of  so  heavy  a  blood-fine  But  at  last 


142  The  Story  of  Roland. 

through  the  advice  of  the  wise  Namon,  peace  was  con- 
cluded; and  Aymon  and  his  four  sons,  now  all  stalwart 
young  knights,  were  restored  to  their  old  places  of 
trust  and  honor.  But  Aymon  could  not  rest  in  idle- 
ness; neither  did  he  love  peace.  He  longed  to  do  some 
great  deed  of  arms  that  would  make  his  name  known 
and  feared  among  men.  So  at  last,  when  he  could  no 
longer  endure  the  life  of  inaction  which  he  was  obliged 
to  lead  in  France,  he  crossed  over  the  Pyrenees  into 
Spain,  and  engaged  in  warfare  with  the  Moors. 

For  many  years  no  news  of  Duke  Aymon  was  car- 
ried back  to  France,  and  the  Princess  Ay  a  and  her  four 
sons  mourned  him  as  dead.  But  one  day  there  came 
a  messenger  to  Ardennes,  saying  that  the  long-absent 
duke  was  lying  ill  at  an  inn  in  Gascony,  and  that  he 
prayed  to  see  once  more  his  wife  and  children.  With- 
out delay,  Aya  and  her  sons  hastened  to  his  side.  They 
found  not  the  stalwart  warrior  as  they  had  last  seen 
him,  but  a  feeble  old  man,  gray-bearded,  tanned,  and 
weather-beaten.  Yet  Aya  recognized  in  him  her  long- 
errant  husband,  and  the  three  elder  sons  embraced 
him  tenderly  as  their  father.  But  Reinold  stood  back, 
doubtfully  hesitating. 

'Who  is  this  worn-out  warrior?'  asked  he.  'Me- 
thinks  he  cannot  be  my  father;  for  Duke  Aymon  is  a 
hero,  and  this  is  but  a  man  of  common  mould." 

'Young  man,"  said  Aymon,  sitting  upright  in  his 
bed,  "if  you  remember  not  my  face,  look  upon  this  ring, 
which  your  mother  gave  me  in  the  days  of  our  youth; 


Reinold  of  Montalban.  143 

look,  too,  upon  these  scars,  which  were  given  roe  in 
battle,  and  which  you  certainly  cannot  have  forgotten." 

"And  think  you  that  I  would  be  deceived?"  asked 
Aya.  "  Never  was  there  a  nobler  duke  than  your  father." 

"Yes,  mother,"  cried  Reinold,  "I  know  him  now,'5 
And  he  seized  his  father  in  his  arms,  and  squeezed  hirr 
so  heartily,  that  the  old  warrior  was  glad  to  be  released 

Duke  Aymon  brought  great  wealth  from  Spain,  and 
divided  it  equally  among  the  Princess  Aya  and  his  three 
eldest  sons.  But  to  Reinold  he  gave  as  his  portion 
the  horse  Bayard  and  the  sword  Flamberge,  With  kind 
nursing  and  constant  care,  his  strength  came  back,  and 
in  a  few  weeks  ne  was  well  enough  to  return  with  his 
family  to  his  old  home  in  Ardennes. 

Not  long  after  this  the  king  held  a  great  tournament 
at  Aix ;  and  the  bravest  warriors,  the  noblest  knights, 
and  the  fairest  ladies  of  the  land,  were  there.  To  this 
tournament  went  the  four  sons  of  Aymon,  glorying  in 
their  strength  and  skill ;  and  save  Roland,  and  Ogier 
the  Dane,  there  were  none  who  dared  hold  a  lance  to 
them,  or  make  trial  with  them  of  any  knightly  feats  of 
arms.  The  young  men  about  the  court  looked  upon 
them  with  feelings  of  bitter  jealousy ;  and  Chariot  the 
king's  son,  and  Bertholais  his  nephew,  plotted  how  they 
might  bring  them  to  grief.  And  Ganelon  the  mischief 
maker,  when  they  asked  his  advice,  said,  — 

14  Challenge  one  of  the  brothers  to  a  contest  If  you 
gain  the  better  of  him,  it  will  be  easy  to  slay  him  as  if 
it  were  by  accident" 


?44  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"  That  would  be  too  great  a  risk,"  answered  Chariot, 
"  The  sons  of  Aymon  have  not  their  equals  in  the  lists, 
and  not  one  of  them  has  yet  been  worsted.  The  praises 
of  the  hated  Reinold  are  in  the  mouths  of  all  those 
who  attended  the  tournament  yesterday,  and  they  say 
that  his  brothers  are  as  skilful  and  as  strong  as  he." 

Ganelon  smiled,  and  stood  for  a  moment  silent.  Then 
he  said,  "  It  is  not  likely  that  they  excel  in  all  kinds  of 
games.  A  good  j  ouster  is  not  commonly  a  good  chess- 
player. Now,  what  I  advise  you  to  do  is  this  :  do  you, 
Bertholais,  send  a  challenge  to  Allard,  the  eldest  of  the 
brothers,  to  play  a  quiet  game  with  you,  and  let  each  of 
you  wager  his  head  on  the  result.  You  have  never  been 
beaten  at  chess,  and  it  is  not  possible  that  you  should 
!>e.  By  this  means  you  may  rid  yourselves  of  one  of 
the  brothers,  and  at  the  same  time  disgrace  the  others." 

Chariot  and  Bertholais  were  delighted  with  the  cun- 
ning words  of  Ganelon,  and  at  once  sent  a  challenge  to 
Allard.  But  Allard  was  loath  to  play  a  game  on  condi- 
tions such  as  those.  He  was  not  afraid  for  his  own 
sake ;  but  he  said,  that,  if  he  should  win,  he  would  not 
wish  to  harm  the  head  of  his  cousin  Bertholais, 

"  Thou  art  a  coward  \ "  said  Chariot.  "  Thou  fearest 
for  thine  own  head  1  *f 

Then  at  last  the  young  hero,  much  against  his  willt 
agreed  to  play  with  Bertholais, 

They  sat  down  at  the  table  to  play.  On  one  side 
stood  the  three  umpires  chosen  by  Allard :  they  were 
Roland,  Ogier  the  Dane,  and  Duke  Namon.  On  the 


Reinold  of  Montalban.  145 

other  side  stood  the  friends  of  Bertholais,  —  Chariot, 
Ganelon,  and  young  Pinabel  of  Mayence.  The  chess- 
men with  which  Allard  played  were  of  silver,  but 
those  of  Bertholais  were  golden.  Five  games  were 
played  ;  and,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  all,  the  boast- 
ful Bertholais  was  checkmated  in  every  one.  Then 
Allard  arose  from  the  table. 

"  I  shall  not  claim  the  stakes,"  said  he  mildly.  "  I 
played  only  for  the  sake  of  my  own  life  and  good  name. 
And  on  no  account  would  I  harm  the  head  of  the  prince 
my  cousin." 

Bertholais  was  boiling  over  with  wrath.  He  seized 
the  chessboard,  and  struck  Allard  in  the  face  with  all 
'his  might  Blood  flowed  from  the  mouth  and  nose  of 
the  hero,  and  ran  down  upon  his  clothing.  Yet,  not 
wishing  to  provoke  a  greater  quarrel,  he  turned  about, 
and  left  the  room.  As  he  crossed  the  courtyard,  he 
met  his  brother  Reinold.  Great  was  the  wrath  of  Rei- 
nold when  he  heard  what  had  happened. 

"  Saddle  your  horses,  and  be  ready  to  ride  with  me ! " 
he  cried  to  his  brothers  and  friends,  —  "  Allard,  my  good 
fellow,  I  will  have  the  stakes  for  which  you  played  ! r 

Boldly  he  walked  into -the  presence-chamber  of  the 
king. 

"I  have  come,"  said  he,  "to  claim  the  blood-fine  that 
is  due  for  the  death  of  my  uncle  Bevis.  Six  times  his 
weight  in  gold  was  promised,  but  it  has  never  been 
paid." 

It  was  now  Charlemagne's  turn  to  be  angry.     He 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


said  not  a  word  ;  but  he  pulle  d  ofif  his  steel  gauntlet, 
and  threw  it  into  the  face  of  the  too  bold  Reinold. 

"  If  thou  wert  not  the  king,"  said  the  knight,  "  thou 
shouldst  fight  me  on  that  challenge." 

As  he  left  the  hall,  he  met  the  unlucky  Bertholais. 
He  drew  his  sword  Flamberge,  and  with  one  stroke 
severed  the  prince's  head  from  his  body.  A  great 
uproar  arose  in  the  palace,  but  no  one  seemed  to  know 
what  to  do. 

"  Seize  the  villain  !  *  cried  Charlemagne.  "  He  shall 
be  hanged  as  a  vile  thief  and  murderer." 

But  his  brethren  were  in  the  courtyard,  already 
mounted  ;  and  Bayard  was  there,  waiting  to  carry  him, 
swifter  than  the  wind,  out  of  harm's  way.  At  once 
there  was  a  great  hue  and  cry.  A  thousand  men- 
at-arms,  mounted  on  the  fleetest  steeds,  gave  chase. 
Reinold  might  have  escaped,  but  he  would  not  leave 
his  brothers.  Outside  of  the  city  they  were  overtaken. 
A  desperate  fight  took  place.  All  the  followers  of  the 
four  brothers  were  either  slain  or  taken  prisoners  ;  and 
all  their  horses,  save  Bayard  alone,  were  killed.  Seeing 
matters  in  so  desperate  a  strait,  Reinold  bade  his 
brothers  mount  behind  him  on  Bayard's  long  back 
Quickly  they  obeyed  him  ;  and  the  noble  horse  galloped 
away  with  the  speed  of  a  storm  cloud,  bearing  his  four- 
fold burden  far  beyond  the  reach  of  Charlemagne's 
avengeful  anger.1 

For  seven  years  did  the  four  brothers  wander  as  out* 

"  S«e  Note  10  at  tho  «&d  *f  this  volume. 


Reinold  of  Montaiban.  147 

laws  in  the  wood  of  Ardennes.  Their  father,  Duke 
Aymon,  was  loyal  to  the  king,  and  would  not  give  them 
aught  of  comfort  or  of  aid.  Great  was  their  poverty 
and  distress,  and  they  suffered  much  from  hunger  and 
cold  and  wretchedness.  But  the  wonderful  horse  Bay- 
•ard  was  their  best  friend :  he  kept  as  big  and  as  fat  as 
ever,  and  thrived  as  well  on  dry  leaves  as  other  horses 
do  on  oats  and  corn.  At  last  the  brothers,  tired  of 
living  where  every  man's  hand  seemed  to  be  raised 
against  them,  escaped  from  the  wood  of  Ardennes,  and 
came  into  the  border  land  of  Spain.  There  they  sought 
the  friendship  and  protection  of  a  Moorish  chief  named 
Ivo.  Right  gladly  did  the  Pagans  receive  them,  for  the 
fame  of  their  daring  had  gone  before  them.  They  were 
taken  into  the  household  of  Ivo,  and  for  three  years 
they  served  him  loyally  and  well.  And  so  great  was  the 
favor  with  which  the  Moor  looked  upon  Reinold,  that 
he  gave  him  his  only  daughter  Clarissa  in  marriage,  and 
the  richest  lands  among  the  Pyrenees  as  a  fief.  And 
Reinold  built  on  one  of  the  hills  a  beautiful  and  strong 
fortress  of  white  marble  which  he  called  Montalban. 
And  there  he  gathered  around  him  a  great  number  of 
warriors,  knights,  and  adventurers,  —  Pagans,  as  well  as 
Christians,  —  and  set  himself  up  as  the  king  of  the 
conn  try  round  about.  And  oftentimes  he  had  given  aid 
to  the  Moors  in  their  wars  against  Charlemagne. 

And  now  the  king  had  resolved,  if  possible,  to  humble 
hia  outlawed  nephews,  and  to  punish  them  for  their 


148  The  Story  of  Roland. 

crimes  and  rebellious  doings.  And  it  was  for  this  rea- 
son, that,  as  we  have  seen,  he  halted  in  his  pursuit  of 
Mar  sin  us  and  his  host,  and  made  ready  to  besiege 
liontalban. 


Malagis  the   Wizard. 


ADVENTURE  XI L 


MALAGIS   THE  WIZARD. 

FOR  a  whole  month  the  host  of  Charlemagne  lay 
encamped  in  the  neighborhood  of  Montalban.  But  the 
proud  white  castle  which  shone  so  clear  upon  the 
mountain  top  was  so  strongly  fortified,  and  the  roadt. 
which  led  to  it  were  so  steep  and  narrow,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  reach  even  its  outer  walls.  Nor  could 
they  by  any  means  shut  up  the  garrison,  or  hinder  them 
from  getting  food  and  recruits  from  their  Pagan  friends 
on  the  other  side  of  the  moutains. 

"  It  is  folly  to  besiege  the  eagle  in  his  eyry,"  said 
Roland. 

"You  speak  wisely/1  answered  the  king.  "And 
while  we  are  here  idly  watching  this  stronghold,  where 
four  rebels  lie  secure,  a  score  of  other  traitors  are 
plotting  mischief  in  other  parts  of  our  kingdom.  To- 
morrow  we  will  try  a  stratagem ;  and,  if  then  we  fail, 
we  will  give  up  this  undertaking,  and  hie  us  back  to 
Paris." 

The  next  morning  the  watchman  who  stood  above  the 
gates  of  Montalban  saw  the  French  army  on  the  move. 


150  The  Story  of  Roland. 

A  long  line  of  steel-clad  warriors,  with  the  golden  Ori 
flamrne  at  their  head,  filed  slowly  past  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  and  turned  down  the  valley  road  which  led 
back  into  France. 

"  Up,  Reinold  ! '  cried  Allard.  "  Our  enemies  have 
abandoned  the  siege  !  Outwitted  and  ashamed,  the) 
go  back  to  their  homes.  Let  us  saddle  our  steeds,  and 
follow  in  their  wake,  and  harass  them  on  the  road." 

"Do  no  such  thing!"  said  the  dwarf  Malagis.  "They 
would  draw  you  away  from  your  safe  stronghold,  and 
lead  you  into  an  ambush.  Let  them  march  away 
quietly  ;  and,  when  they  see  that  you  are  too  wise  to  fall 
into  their  trap,  they  will  return  into  France,  and  annoy 
you  no  more.  The  king  has  enough  to  do  to  attend  to 
his  affairs  at  Paris,  without  wasting  the  whole  summer 
here." 

Through  all  their  troubles,  Malagis  had  been  the  firm 
friend  of  his  cousins,  the  four  sons  of  Aymon.  And 
he  was  able  sometimes  to  be  of  great  use  to  them  ;  for 
men  looked  upon  him  as  a  being  of  more  than  human 
power  and  knowledge,  and  he  was  allowed  to  pass 
from  place  to  place,  and  from  camp  to  camp,  without 
quesnon  and  without  hinderance.  Sometimes  he  was 
with  Charlemagne,  sometimes  he  was  with  the  brothers ; 
but  oftener  he  was  wandering  hither  and  thither  ir» 
company,  as  men  believed,  with  his  kinsfolk,  —  the 
wood  sprites  and  the  mountain  goblins. 

"Thou  sayest  wisely,  my  elfin  cousin,"  said  Reinold 
"  But,  now  that  our  foes  have  left  us  once  more  in  quiet. 


Malagis  the   Wizard.  151 

there  is  one  duty  that  I  must  do  without  delay.  It  is 
full  ten  years  since  I  saw  my  mother,  the  Princess  Ayat 
Above  all  things  else  in  life,  I  long  to  see  her  once 
more ;  and  I  know  that  her  tender  heart  yearns  to  meet 
her  wayward  sons  again.  I  will  dress  me  in  a  pilgrim's 
garb ;  and  I  will  go  now  to  the  old  home  at  Dordon 
and  make  myself  known  to  her." 

"  We  will  go  with  you ! '  cried  all  three  of  his 
brothers. 

A  few  days  after  this,  four  humble  pilgrims  stood  at 
the  gate  of  the  castle  at  Dordon.  So  poor  they  were, 
that  there  was  scarcely  a  whole  thread  of  cloth  on  their 
backs;  and  they  seemed  footsore  with  their  long  jour- 
neying, and  weak  from  much  fasting.  They  begged, 
that,  for  the  love  of  Him  who  died  on  the  cross,  they 
might  be  given  a  crust  of  bread,  and  be  allowed  to  rest 
for  the  night  on  the  hard  stones  of  the  kitchen  floor. 
The  gentle  Aya,  when  she  was  told  how  they  stood  at 
the  gate,  bade  them  to  be  brought  into  her  presence. 
Much  affrighted  was  she  at  their  haggard  faces,  and 
bold,  determined  looks. 

"  These  are  no  common  pilgrims,"  said  she ;  and  yet 
her  heart  was  strangely  moved  toward  them.  And  she 
gave  them  food  and  clothing,  and  saw  that  every  thing 
was  done  that  could  add  to  their  comfort. 

"This  I  do,"  said  she,  "for  the  love  of  God,  the 
Gentle  Father,  who  I  pray  may  save  my  sons  from  dan- 
ger and  death.  For  I  have  not  seen  them  these  ten 
years/' 


1 52  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"How  is  that?"  asked  one  of  the  pilgrims.  "Tell 
us  about  your  sons." 

Then  Aya  began  to  tell  the  story  of  the  sad  misfor- 
tunes that  had  driven  her  sons  into  exile  and  caused 
her  so  many  years  of  anxiety  and  sorrow.  But,  as  she 
gpoke,  the  tallest  of  the  four  pilgrims  withdrew  hia 
cow!  from  his  head,  and  displayed  a  strange  scar  in 
the  middle  of  his  forehead  The  princess  started  with 
surprise. 

"  Reinold  1 "  she  cried.  "  Fair  son,  if  it  be  indeed 
thou,  tell  it  me  at  once." 

The  great  heart  of  the  hero  was  too  full  for  speech. 
He  wept.  The  gentle  mother  knew  now  that  these 
were  her  sons  who  stood  before  her.  Weeping  with 
great  joy,  she  fell  into  Reinold's  arms :  tenderly  they 
kissed  her  a  hundred  times  over.  Not  one  of  them 
could  speak  a  word,  for  aught  that  lives. 

And  the  princess  made  a  feast  for  her  sons  in  the 
banquet  hall.  And  she  set  before  them  all  that  was 
rarest  and  best  in  the  way  of  meat  and  drink,  —  veni- 
son and  fish  and  fowl,  and  white  wine  and  red  in  a 
great  cup.  And  she  herself  waited  on  them  at  table. 
While  they  were  eating,  Duke  Aymon  came  home  from 
hunting. 

"  Who  are  these  men  who  eat  like  lords,  but  who  are 
dressed  like  holy  pilgrims  ? "  he  asked  as  he  walked 
suddenly  into  the  banquet  room. 

The  Princess  Aya,  weeping,  answered,  — 

"They  are  your  sons,  the  long-lost  heroes   of 


Malagis  the  Wizard.  153 

house.  They  hive  braved  every  danger  to  see  their 
mother  once  again.  And  I  have  given  them  shelter 
this  one  night,  and  food  such  as  the  sons  of  Duke 
Aymon  should  eat.  When  the  morning  dawns  they 
will  go  away,  and  I  know  not  if  in  all  my  life  I  shall 
see  them  again." 

The  iron  -hearted  duke  was  in  truth  pleased  to  see  his 
sons,  but  with  him  duty  was  stronger  than  love.  He 
tried  to  forget  that  he  was  a  father,  and  to  remember 
only  that  he  was  a  knight,  and  a  loyal  vassal  of  the 
king.  Roughly  he  spoke  to  the  young  men. 

"  Out  upon  you,  you  traitors ! '  he  cried.  "  My 
castle  is  no  abiding  place  for  men  who  make  war  upon 
Charlemagne  and  his  knights.  You  are  no  sons  of 
mine.  No  favors  shall  ye  seek  of  me." 

Right  angry  was  the  courteous  Reinold  to  hear  these 
words  from  his  father's  lips.  He  sprang  from  the  table. 
Had  any  other  knight  spoken  thus,  he  would  have  made 
him  rue  it.  But  he  checked  his  fiery  temper. 

"  Baron,"  said  the  hero,  "  it  is  hard  to  hear  one  who 
should  keep  us  and  help  us,  through  bad  report  as  well 
as  good,  talk  thus  harshly  and  unreasonably.  It  is 
maddening  to  know  that  you  thus  disherit  us  foi  tne 
sake  of  the  most  selfish  of  kings." 

Duke  Aymon's  love  now  got  the  better  of  his  loyalty, 
For  a  time  he  could  not  speak  for  weeping.  Then  he 
said,  "  Reinold,  very  worthy  son  of  baron  art  thou.  I 
know  not  thy  peer  on  earth.  But  for  my  oathys  sake 
I  dare  not  s^ve  you  aught  of  aid  or  comfort." 


£54  2^  Story  of  Roland. 

And  very  sorrowfully  the  duke  turned  away,  and  left 
the  hall.  And  he  mounted  his  steed,  and  rode  away. 
And  he  came  not  back  to  Dordon  until  he  heard  that 
th'e  king  had  pardoned  his  sons. 

After  he  had  gone,  Reinold  and  his  brothers  laitl 
aside  their  pilgrim  garbs,  and  dressed  themselves  in 
af  parel  befitting  their  rank.  And  their  mother  gave 
them  of  her  gold  and  silver,  which  she  had  in  great 
abundance.  And  messengers  were  sent  out  into  the 
city  and  into  the  countryside,  to  make  it  known  to 
all  men  who  were  dissatisfied  with  the  king  and  his 
doings,  that  the  four  sons  of  Aymon  were  resting  for 
the  night  in  their  father's  castle. 

"  Let  all  who  would  aid  them  against  the  tyranny  of 
Charlemagne/'  said  the  messengers,  "arm  themselves, 
and  join  them,  without  delay." 

At  dawn  the  heroes  rode  boldly  out  of  Dordon,  and 
behind  them  followed  seven  hundred  noble  knights  who 
had  vowed  to  see  them  safe  again  in  their  mountain 
home  of  Montalban.  On  their  way  they  were  over- 
taken by  the  dwarf  Malagis,  who  had  with  him  four 
sumterloads  of  gold  and  silver.  He  had  just  come 
from  the  king's  court  at  Paris.  But,  when  he  was 
asked  where  he  had  gotten  the  treasure  which  he 
brought,  he  said,  — 

44  The  mountain  goblins  and  the  wood  sprites  have 
sent  a  part  of  their  secret  hoard  to  the  heroes  of 
Montalban/' 


Malagis  the   Wizard,  155 


When  Charlemagne  learned  that  the  sons  of  Ayraon 
had  so  boldly  visited  their  mother  at  Dordon,  and  that 
they  had  gone  back  to  their  mountain  stronghold  with 
so  great  a  following,  his  wrath  waxed  very  hot,  and  he 
called  his  peers  together  to  ask  their  advice.  Duke 
Namon  and  Roland  were  in  favor  of  peace. 

"  Grant  the  four  knights  your  forgiveness,"  said  they, 
"  and  you  will  gain  four  very  powerful  vassals,  who  will 
be  of  great  help  to  you  in  your  wars  against  the 
Saracens." 

But  Ganelon,  the  cunning  mischief-maker,  arose  and 
said,  "The  king  will  scarcely  humble  himself  by  making 
terms  with  traitors.  It  would  be  better  to  try  one 
more  stratagem  at  least,  ere  we  acknowledge  ourselves 
outwitted  by  them.  Now,  there  is  the  old  Moorish 
chief,  Ivo,  the  father-in-law  of  Reinold.  He  loves  noth- 
ing so  much  as  money.  He  would  sell  his  own  children 
for  gold.  If  we  could  only  gain  his  friendship,  he 
might  be  persuaded  to  betray  the  four  brothers  into 
our  hands." 

Charlemagne  was  delighted  with  this  cunning  sug- 
gestion :  it  pleased  him  better  than  the  wiser  plans  for 
peace  which  Roland  and  Duke  Namon  had  proposed 
Secret  messengers  were  at  once  sent  to  Chief  Ivo  with 
rich  presents  of  gold  and  jewels,  and  promises  of  much 
more,  if  he  would  betray  the  four  sons  of  Aymon. 
Ganelon  was  right  when  he  had  spoken  of  Ivo's  great 
love  of  money.  He  listened  eagerly  to  the  offers  of 
king's  messengers;  and  his  heart  grew  black,  and 


56  The  Story  of  Roland. 


bis  long  fingers  itched  for  the  promised  rewards.  And, 
without  a  single  twitch  of  conscience,  he  agreed  to  sell 
Reinold  and  his  brothers,  and  their  mountain  fortress, 
to  the  king. 

One  day  the  faithless  Ivo  went  to  Montalban,  as  hg 
had  been  wont  to  do,  to  see  his  daughter  Clarissaj  and 
to  talk  with  the  hero  brothers.  He  had  just  come  from 
Paris,  he  said,  and  he  brought  glad  news. 

"  Would  you  like  to  make  peace  with  your  uncle  the 
king  ? " 

"  Nothing  would  gladden  our  hearts  more,"  said  Rei- 
nold. "It  is  hard  to  live  thus  outlawed  and  hunted 
down  by  our  own  kinsmen  and  those  who  should  be 
our  friends." 

Then  Ivo,  with  smooth,  lying  words,  told  them  that 
the  king  had  offered  to  let  all  bygones  be  bygones,  and 
to  receive  them  into  the  highest  favor  at  his  court,  if 
they  would  only  prove  their  sincerity  by  a  single  act 
of  submission, 

"  What  is  it  ? "  asked  they.  "  We  will  sacrifice  every 
thing  except  our  lives  and  our  knightly  honor,  in  order 
that  there  may  be  peace  between  us  and  the  king." 

"  It  is  only  this,"  said  the  cunning  Ivo.  "  It  is  that 
you  dress  yourselves  in  the  garb  of  pilgrims,  like  that 
which  you  wore  when  you  visited  your  mother  at  Dor 
don,  and  that,  barefooted  and  unarmed,  you  ride  to  the 
fortress  of  Falkalone,  and  there  do  homage  to  the  king, 
begging  his  forgiveness.'* 

"That  is  easily  done,"  said  Reinoid.     "It  is  not  half 


Malagis  the   Wizard,  157 

so  hard  a  penance  as  we  have  suffered  these  ten  years 
past.  You  may  tell  the  king  that  we  will  do  as  he 
desires,  for  we  are  sadly  tired  of  this  strife." 

A  few  weeks  after  this,  a  messenger  came  to  Mon- 
fcalban,  bringing  word  that  the  king  with  his  peers  had 
some  to  the  castle  of  Falkalone,  and  that  he  waited 
there  the  submission  of  Reinold  and  his  brothers. 
The  four  knights  at  once  made  ready  to  obey  the  sum 
mons.  They  donned  their  pilgrims'  garbs,  and,  bare- 
footed and  unarmed,  mounted  the  donkeys  which  were 
to  carry  them  across  the  mountains.  Then  Clarissa. 
the  wife  of  Reinold,  prayed  them  not  to  go. 

"  My  father,  Chief  Ivo,"  said  she,  "would  stoop  to  any 
dteed  of  treachery  for  the  sake  of  gold.  And  my  heart 
tells  me  that  he  is  luring  you  to  Falkalone  to  betray 
you.  I  beg  you  not  to  go  thus  unarmed  into  the  lion's 
power." 

But  Reinold  would  not  listen  to  his  fair  wife. 

"  An  ungrateful  daughter  you  are,"  said  he,  "  thus  to 
accuse  your  father  of  the  basest  crime  of  which  a 
warrior  can  be  guilty.  I  have  ever  found  him  trust- 
worthy, and  I  will  not  now  believe  him  to  be  false." 

With  these  words  he  turned,  and  rode  out  through 
the  castle  gate,  not  even  bidding  Clarissa  good-by. 
Richard  and  Guichard  followed  him,  but  Allard  tarried 
a  few  moments  in  the  courtyard. 

"  Take  these  good  friends  with  you,"  said  Clarissa 
"you  will  have  need  of  them,  if  I  mistake  not."     And 
she   handed   him  four  swords,  among  which  was  Rei 
nold's  Flamberge. 


158  The  Story  of  Rolavut. 

Allard  thanked  the  lady;  and,  taking  the  good  wea- 
pons, he  hid  them  carefully  beneath  his  penitent's 
robe.  Then  giving  whip  to  his  donkey,  he  followed 
his  brothers  down  the  steep  mountain  road  which  led 
toward  Falkalone. 

As  the  heroes  were  passing  through  a  narrow  glen 
not  more  than  a  league  from  Falkalone,  they  were  set 
upon  by  a  party  of  horsemen  who  lay  in  ambush  there. 
Then  it  was  that  Reinold  thought  of  fair  Clarissa's 
warning  words,  and  bitterly  he  repented  that  he  had 
not  hearkened  to  her  advice.  But  Allard  quickly  divid- 
ed the  swords  among  them  ;  and,  when  Reinold  saw 
his  old  friend  Flamberge  once  more  in  his  hand,  his 
fears  vanished,  and  he  stood  boldly  on  guard  against 
his  foes.  But  how  could  four  men,  mounted  only  on 
donkeys,  and  armed  only  with  swords,  defend  them- 
selves from  the  onset  of  threescore  steel-clad  knights 
on  horseback  ?  Allard,  Guichard,  and  Richard  were 
soon  overthrown,  and  made  prisoners.  What  would 
Reinold  not  have  given  for  a  stout  lance,  arid  his  trusty 
*#ar  steed  Bayard,  at  that  moment?  Yet  bravely  he 
fought,  and  more  than  one  of  his  foes  bit  the  dust. 
At  last  night  came  on ;  and,  while  the  others  were  grop- 
ng  in  the  dusk,  he  turned  his  donkey  about,  and, 
ds  he  knew  the  road  well,  he  made  his  way  safely  back 
to  Montalban. 

Reinold  expected  that  Charlemagne  would  again  lay 
siege  to  his  mountain  castle,  and  try  to  gain  by  force 
what  he  had  partly  failed  to  gain  by  guile.  He  there- 


Malagis  the   Wizard,  15$ 

fore  doubled  the  guards  on  the  walls,  and  sent  out  com 
panics  of  armed  men  to  watch  every  turn  of  the  narrow 
road  which  led  from  the  valley  up  to  the  fortress ;  and 
on  the  rocks  and  high  places  he  caused  great  heaps  of 
stones  and  other  missiles  to  be  piled,  ready  to  b% 
thrown  down  on  the  heads  of  any  foes  who  should  dare 
approach  too  near.  But,  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  king  was  ready  to  begin  the  assault  on  Montalban, 
messengers  came  to  him  from  Paris,  bringing  news 
which  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  return  home  with- 
out further  delay. 

"  Let  the  three  rebels  whom  we  have  taken,"  said  he, 
"be  carried  back  with  us  in  chains  to  Paris.  As  soon 
as  our  leisure  serves  us,  they  shall  be  hanged  like  so 
many  thieves.  Their  fate  will  be  a  warning  to  all 
other  traitors." 

Then  Reinold,  when  he  heard  it,  resolved  that  he 
would  at  all  hazards  save  the  lives  of  his  brothers.  So 
he  mounted  his  good  steed  Bayard,  and  set  out  alone 
for  Paris.  One  day,  at  the  noontide  hour,  he  stopped 
to  rest  in  the  cool  shade  of  a  great  oak.  The  sun  shone 
very  hot ;  the  grass  upon  which  he  reclined  was  green 
and  soft ;  the  bees  hummed  drowsily  among  the  leaves 
overhead  ;  every  thing  was  so  calm  and  still,  that,  before 
Reinold  knew  it,  he  had  fallen  asleep.  And  Bayard, 
pleased  with  the  pasturage  which  spread  around,  left 
his  master's  side,  and  wandered  hither  and  thither, 
grazing  the  sweetest  clover  and  the  freshest  leaves  of 
grass  It  so  happened  that  some  country  folk  who 


i6o  Tfo  Story  of  Roland. 

passing  that  way  saw  the  horse ;  and  one  of  them,  whc 
had  been  at  Dordon,  said,  — 

"  See  there !     I  verily  believe  that  steed  is  Bayard." 

But  the  others  laughed  at  him. 

"At  any  rate,"  said  he,  "he  is  a  rich  prize.  Se«  the 
gold-red  saddle  on  his  back,  the  golden  stirrups  at  his 
sides,  and  the  silken  reins  that  rest  upon  his  neck.  He 
belongs  to  no  common  knight.  I  mean  to  take  him  to 
Paris,  and  claim  a  reward  for  having  found  him.  He 
would  be  a  handsome  gift  to  present  to  the  king/' 

Now,  this  man  was  no  common  countryman,  or  he: 
would  not  have  dared  think  of  touching  so  rare  and 
rich  a  prize ;  nor  could  he,  without  the  help  of  magic, 
have  come  near  the  horse.  But  he  had  seen  something 
of  the  world ;  and  in  his  youth  he  had  lived  some  time 
with  an  old  wizard,  from  whom  he  had  learned  some 
thing  of  witchery  and  enchantment  So,  as  he  drew 
near  the  grazing  horse,  he  mumbled  many  strange, 
uncouth  words,  and  scattered  a  fine  white  powder  to 
the  winds.  Yet,  even  with  all  these  precautions,  it  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  he  caught  hold  of  the 
reins  of  Bayard,  and  seated  himself  on  his  back.  The 
horse  at  once  set  off  at  a  full  gallop  toward  Paris  ;  and 
so  swift  was  his  passage,  that  early  the  next  morning  he 
stood  in  the  courtyard  of  the  king's  palace. 

When  word  was  brought  to  Charlemagne,  that  Bayard, 
the  matchless  steed  of  the  Montalban  hero,  was  at  the 
door,  he  could  not  believe  it.  But  when  he  went  out* 
and  saw  for  himself  that  horse,  the  like  of  which  there 


Malagis  the   Wizard.  161 

was  none  on  earth,  his  joy  was  greater  than  if  it  had 
been  Reinold  himself. 

"  Verily,  this  horse  is  worth  more  than  a  province ! ' 
said  he. 

And  he  at  once  conferred  the  honor  of  knighthood 
apon  the  countryman,  loading  him  with  rich  presents  of 
gold  and  silver,  and  giving  him  as  a  fief  the  lands  and 
castles  of  the  dead  Duke  Gilmer  of  Vermandois. 

Now  let  us  go  back  to  Reinold,  whom  we  left  sleep- 
ing in  the  shade  of  the  friendly  oak.  When  he  awoke* 
the  sun  was  sloping  far  down  toward  the  west.  He  had 
never  before  slept  so  long  and  so  carelessly  by  the  road- 
side. He  arose  and  looked  around.  His  steed  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  He  called  him,  at  first  softly,  then 
very  loudly,  "  Bayard  ! '  He  listened  to  hear  the  shrill 
whinny  with  which  the  horse  always  answered  his  call. 
And  when  no  sound  came  back  save  the  echo  of  his 
own  anxious  voice,  then  Reinold  knew  that  Bayard 
was  lost,  and  he  threw  himself  in  despair  upon  the 
ground, 

"  What  need  to  live  longer,"  said  he,  "  when  I  have 
fost  every  living  being  that  I  loved?  False  fealty, 
force,  and  fraud  have  deprived  me  of  a  father's  love,  of 
a.  mother's  caresses,  of  rny  brothers'  companionship. 
I  have  not  kith  nor  kin  to  whom  I  may  go  for  sympathy 
and  fellowship.  And  now  my  horse,  whom  I  loved  as 
%  fourth  brother,  has  been  stolen  from  me." 

As  he  spoke,  his  eyes  fell  upon  his  gx>lden  spurs,  the 


The  Story  of  Rolana. 


symbol   of   his   knighthood.     He   seized   them   in   his 
hands,  and  wrenched  them  from  his  ankles. 

"What  need  of  these,  when  Bayard  is  gone!"  be 
cried.  "Without  a  hojse,  I  am  no  longer  a  knight." 

"  Good-day  to  you,  my  lord ! '  said  a  shrill,  harsh 
voice  at  his  elbow. 

He  looked  up,  and  saw  a  little  old  man,  bent  almost 
double  with  the  infirmities  of  age,  standing  very  close 
to  him,  and  gazing  at  him  with  a  strange,  quizzical  look 
on  his  little  dried-up  features.  The  old  man  was  dressed 
in  the  garb  of  a  begging  pilgrim,  his  long  white  beard 
fell  in  tangled  masses  halfway  to  his  feet,  and  his  twin- 
kling gray  eyes  were  almost  hidden  beneath  his  heavy 
white  eyebrows. 

"  Good-day  to  you,  my  lord  ! '  he  said  a  second  time, 
bowing  very  low, 

"  It  may  be  a  good  day  to  you,  old  man,"  said  Rei- 
nold.  "  But,  as  for  me,  I  have  scarcely  known  a  good 
day  in  all  my  life." 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  pilgrim,  "why  should  your  heart 
lose  hope  ?     Do  but  give  me  a  present  as  a  token  of 
your  faith,  and  I  will  pray  Heaven  to  help  you.     Prayer 
is  the  poor  man's  defence,  and  it  has  sometimes  re 
lieved  the  rich  and  the  great  from  their  distresses," 

"Your  prayers  may  do  me  much  good,"  answered 
Reinold ;  "  but  I  have  no  faith  in  them,  nor  indeed  in 
aught  else.  Yet  no  beggar  has  ever  gone  away  from 
me  empty-handed.  Here  are  my  spurs,  the  priceless 
gifts  that  my  mother  buckled  to  my  ankles  on  the  da> 


Malagis  the   Wizard.  163 

that  I  was  dubbed  a  knight.  Take  them  :  I  shall  neve? 
wear  them  again." 

The  pilgrim  took  the  spurs,  and,  bowing  low,  said, 
ij  My  lord,  these  spurs  may  be  worth  ten  pounds ;  but 
my  prayers  are  worth  much  more.  Have  you  nothiag 
slse  to  give  ?  *' 

Reinold's  down-heartedness  began  now  to  give  place 
to  anger.  "A  fig  for  your  prayers!'  answered  he 
"  Tf  it  were  not  for  your  gray  hairs,  I  would  give  you 
a  sound  drubbing  for  a  present.' 

"Ah,  good  sir,"  said  the  old  man,  "it  is  not  thus 
that  Christians  give  alms  to  pious  pilgrims.  If  every 
one  of  whom  I  have  begged  had  beaten  me,  the  churches 
and  the  convents  would  have  been  but  poorly  furnished. 
But  some  have  shared  their  last  crust  with  me,  and  great 
has  been  their  reward.  Therefore,  I  ask  thee  again,  if 
thou  hast  any  thing  to  spare,  give  it  me." 

Then  Reinold  took  off  his  mantle, — a  beautiful  gar- 
ment of  velvet,  embroidered  with  silk  and  gold,  —  and 
gave  it  to  the  pilgrim. 

"  Take  this/'  said  he.  "  It  is  the  last  gift  of  my  wife, 
the  charming  Clarissa,  the  fair  Pagan,  whose  love  fo? 
me  is,  I  fear,  greater  and  more  sincere  than  I  deserve." 

The  old  man  folded  the  mantle  carefully,  and  put  it  in 
&is  wallet  Then,  with  another  low  bow,  he  said,  **  My 
lord,  have  you  nothing  else  that  you  would  give  me  for 
the  sake  of  kind  remembrance  ? 

Reinold's  wrath  now  got  the  better  of  him,  Fiercch 
he  drew  Flamberge  from  his  scabbard.  He  seized  the 


i  $4  The  Story  of  Roland. 

pilgrim  by  the  beard.  "Wouldst  thou  rob  me?"  fa« 
cried.  "  Even  thy  age  shall  not  save  thee  ! ' 

The  old  man  quietly  pushed  back  his  hood.  His  long 
beard  fell  off  in  Reinold's  grasp.  He  looked  at  the 
hero  with  a  smile, 

"  Good  Sir  Reinold,"  said  he,  "  wouldst  thou  slay  tky 
cousin  Malagis  ? ' 

It  was  indeed  the  wizard  dwarf  Malagis,  who,  for 
some  reason  best  known  to  himself,  had  chosen  to  come 
before  Reinold  in  this  disguise. 

"  Cheer  up,  brave  cousin  !  "  said  he.  "  Faith  and  hope 
have  brought  about  greater  wonders  than  the  wizard's 
wand  ever  accomplished.  But  despair  has  never  yet 
gained  a  victory.  Your  brothers  are  prisoners  in  the 
king's  castle,  and  Bayard  is  on  his  way  to  Paris.  But, 
if  you  will  trust  me,  all  will  yet  be  well." 

He  then  took  from  his  wallet  an  old  gown,  like  that 
which  he  himself  wore,  and  bade  Reinold  put  it  on  over 
his  armor,  instead  of  the  rich  mantle  which  he  had  just 
given  away.  He  unlaced  his  helmet,  and  hid  it  in  a 
clump  of  shrubs,  and,  instead  of  it,  he  drew  over  his 
head  a  ragged  gray  hood,  which  hid  more  than  half  his 
face  beneath  its  folds.  A  false  beard  and  a  few  touches 
of  paint  were  all  that  was  needed  now  to  change  the 
hero  into  the  likeness  of  a  pious  pilgrim. 

"Malagis,"  said  Reinold,  embracing  the  wizard,  "thou 
art  truly  a  godsend  !  I  believe  in  thee." 

A  few  days  after  this,  two  pilgrims,  old  and  lame, 
limped  through  the  streets  of  Paris,  begging  alms  of  the 


Malagis  the   Wizard.  165 

good  people  whom  they  met    They  stood  on  the  bridge 
over  the  Seine,  and  watched  a  grand  procession  of  lords 
and  ladies  crossing  the  river,  on  their  way  to  a  tour 
nament  which  was  to  be  held  in  the  meadows  on  the 
other  side. 

"  Put  on  your  spurs,  cousin,"  said  the  wizard ;  "  fu* 
believe  me,  you  will  soon  need  them." 

By  and  by  a  great  shouting  was  heard ;  and  the  king 
was  seen  riding  toward  the  bridge,  with  Roland  and  tht 
other  peers  in  his  train.  In  front  of  him  was  the  great 
war  steed  Bayard,  led  by  four  stout  grooms.  The  horse 
was  most  richly  apparelled.  The  bridle  was  of  silvei 
and  gold,  with  reins  of  fine  sable  and  silk-covered 
leather ;  the  saddle  was  wonderfully  wrought  of  leather 
and  cloth  and  rare  metals ;  and  over  all  were  trappings 
of  crimson  velvet  bordered  with  cloth-of-gold,  on  which 
fair  ladies'  fingers  had  deftly  embroidered  the  white 
lilies  of  France.  It  was  hard  to  tell  which  the  people 
applauded  more,  • — the  grand  old  king  who  sat  so  proudly 
on  his  own  charger,  or  the  noble  steed  who  walked 
before  him  like  the  monarch  of  his  kind. 

"They  are  leading  the  horse  to  the  lists,"  said  b 
monk  who  stood  near.  "  The  knights  are  there  to  make 
trial  of  their  skill  in  mounting  and  riding  him,  and  he 
who  succeeds  best  is  to  have  him  as  a  present  from  the 
king." 

"When  will  kings  cease  to  give  away  the  things  that 

not  belong  to  them  ? "  asked  Malagis. 

All  at  once  the  horse  was  noticed  to  stop.     He  had 


1 66  The  Story  of  Roland. 

seen  the  poor  pilgrims  on  the  bridge.  With  a  sudden 
toss  of  the  head  he  jerked  away  from  the  grooms  ;  and, 
neighing  joy  tally,  he  ran  forward,  and  laid  his  head  on 
Reinold's  shoulder. 

"  Never  saw  I  such  a  horse  as  Bayard/*  said  Roland 
to  the  king.  "  He  seems  to  scorn  our  company,  and  to 
like  those  ragged  beggars  better  than  knights  and  noble- 


men/ 


"Come,  Bayard,"  said  the  king,  riding  forward  and 
laying  his  hand  on  the  reins.  "  Thou  shouldst  be  more 
choice  of  thy  comrades/' 

"  And  is  this,  indeed,  Bayard  ? '  asked  one  of  the 
pilgrims.  "  How  lucky  we  are  to  happen  here  at  this 
moment ! ' 

Then,  turning  to  Charlemagne,  he  said,  "  Most  gra- 
cious king,  I  pray  you  to  grant  us  a  boon.  This  my 
poor  brother  has  been  deaf  and  dumb  and  blind  these 
many  days,  and  there  is  in  life  no  joy  for  him.  He 
wanders  with  me  from  place  to  place  in  great  distress ; 
and,  do  what  he  will,  he  can  find  no  relief.  But  yester- 
day a  wizard  told  me,  that,  if  he  could  be  allowed  to  ride 
even  ten  steps  on  the  great  steed  Bayard,  he  should  be 
healed." 

The  king  and  his  courtiers  laughed. 

"I  have  half  a  mind  to  let  him  try,"  said  Charle- 
magne; "for,  although  I  have  heard  of  miracles.  I  have 
never  yet  seen  one/' 

"Even  if  he  should  not  be  healed,"  said  Roland  "it 
would  be  equally  a  miracle.  It  would  be  as  wonderful 


Malagis  the   Wizard,  167 

to  see  a  cripple  ride  the  great  Bayard  as  to  see  the  blind 
restored  to  sight." 

Then,  by  the  king's  command,  the  grooms  lifted 
the  supposed  pilgrim  into  the  saddle.  Men  wondered 
why  the  horse  should  stand  so  gently,  and  allow  himself 
to  be  backed  by  the  awkward,  ragged  beggar,  when  he 
had  refused  to  let  the  noblest  barons  put  feet  in  his 
stirrups.  But  their  wonder  grew  to  astonishment  when 
the  dumb  pilgrim  spoke  the  word  '  Bayard  ! '  and  the 
horse,  with  his  rider  sitting  gracefully  in  the  saddle, 
dashed  across  the  bridge  and  galloped  away  more  swiftly 
than  horse  had  ever  before  been  known  to  gallop.  The 
king  and  all  his  peers  put  spurs  to  their  steeds,  and 
followed.  But  in  less  than  a  minute  the  wonderful 
Bayard  was  out  of  sight,  and  none  of  his  pursuers  saw 
him  again.  More  swiftly  than  a  bird  could  fly  through 
the  air,  he  sped  southward  over  hill  and  dale  and  forest 
and  stream,  and  stopped  not  once  until  he  had  carried 
his  master  safely  back  to  Montalban. 

'Fools  that  we  are  !"  said  the  king.  'Again  have 
we  been  outwitted  by  that  villain  Reinold  and  his 
cunning  cousin  Malagis.  If  ever  the  wizard  comes 
within  my  reach,  he  shall  suffer  for  this." 

But  Malagis  had  taken  care  to  slip  away  during  the 
confusion  ;  and,  though  the  king  ordered  that  search 
should  everywhere  be  made  for  him,  he  was  not  to  be 
found  in  Paris. 

That  same  night  a  little  man  dressed  in  gray  made 
his  way,  silent  and  unseen,  to  the  prison  tower  of  the 


1 68  The  Story  of  Roland. 

king's  castle.  The  guards  before  the  doors  were  asleep, 
and  the  sentinels  who  stood  on  the  ramparts  above 
nodded  at  their  posts.  He  touched  the  great  oaken 
doors.  The  iron  bolts  flew  back  with  a  faint  click ;  the 
chains  were  unfastened  without  a  rattle;  the  doors 
turned  silently  on  their  hinges.  Some  men  say  that 
the  cunning  wizard,  for  it  was  Malagis,  did  all  this 
through  magic :  others  say  that  he  had  bribed  the 
watchmen.  Be  this  as  it  may,  he  had  no  trouble  in 
finding  his  way  to  a  narrow  dungeon,  where  the  air 
seemed  heavy  and  cold,  and  the  water  oozed  and  trickled 
through  the  ceiling,  and  the  horrible  gloom  of  the 
grave  seemed  to  brood  over  all.  There  three  men  were 
chained  to  the  wall.  They  were  Allard,  Guichard,  and 
Richard.  When  they  heard  him  enter,  they  supposed 
it  was  the  jailer,  come  to  lead  them  out  to  their  death 
And  they  were  glad,  for  death  in  any  shape  would  have 
been  better  than  life  in  such  a  place.  The  wizard 
touched  them,  and  their  chains  fell  from  their  limbs. 
He  must  have  had  the  jailer's  keys. 

"Up,  cousins!"  he  cried.  "You  are  saved.  I  am 
Malagis.  Follow  me." 

Silently  they  groped  their  way  out  of  the  prison.  At 
the  castle  gate  four  fleet  horses,  ready  saddled,  waited 
for  them.  They  mounted  them,  and,  ere  the  morning 
dawned,  were  many  leagues  away  from  Paris,  riding 
straight  for  Montalban. 

Very  angry  was  the  king  when  he  learned,  next  day, 


Malagis  the   Wizard.  169 

that  he  had  been  again  outwitted,  and  that  the  sons  of 
Aymon  had  escaped.  He  vowed  that  he  would  not 
rest,  nor  cease  his  efforts,  until  he  had  dined  in  the 
broad  feast  hall  of  Montalban.  And  he  called  together 
his  host,  and  marched  with  all  haste  back,  for  the  third 
time,  to  the  country  of  the  Pyrenees. 

The  mountain  stronghold  was  surrounded  on  every 
side  by  the  men  of  Charlemagne.  Every  road  and 
every  pass  leading  to  it  were  carefully  guarded.  The 
king  knew  that  he  could  never  reach  the  walls,  or  hope 
to  carry  the  place  by  assault,  and  therefore  that  the 
only  way  to  capture  it  was  to  starve  the  garrison  into 
surrender.  Yet  week  after  week  passed  by,  and  neither 
party  seemed  to  gain  any  advantage  over  the  other. 
Once  a  company  of  knights,  under  Reinold,  made  a 
sally  into  the  plain  below,  and  had  a  brief  passage-at- 
arms  with  some  of  Charlemagne's  men.  Roland  and 
Reinold  measured  their  lances  with  each  other ;  and 
Roland,  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  his  life,  was 
unhorsed. 

"  Ah,  good  cousin  ! '  cried  Reinold,  "  that  was  your 
horse's  failure,  and  no  fault  of  yours. " 

And  he  at  once  called  off  his  men,  and  rode  back 
to  the  castle.  Roland  was  very  much  grieved  at  the 
disgrace  of  his  fall :  but,  instead  of  feeling  angry,  he 
cherished  the  warmest  feelings  of  friendship  for  his 
gallant  cousin ;  and  he  vowed,  that,  if  ever  the  king 
should  forgive  Reinold,  he  would  love  him  next  *o 
Oliver,  and  Ogier  the  Dane. 


170  The  Story  of  Roland. 

It  happened  one  night,  that  Malagis  —  as,  indeed,  he 
had  often  done  before  —  went  out  as  a  spy  into  Charle- 
magne's camp.  The  soldiers  were  sleeping  quietly  in 
their  tents  ;  and,  as  the  wizard  crept  stealthily  from  one 
place  to  another,  he  threw  a  white  sleeping  powder  into 
the  air,  which  caused  even  the  most  watchful  sentinels 
to  close  their  eyes.  Thus  he  made  his  way  into  the 
very  heart  of  the  camp  ;  and,  without  any  fear  of  awaken- 
ing the  sleepers,  he  stood  in  the  door  of  the  king's 
tent.  Suddenly,  and  to  his  great  surprise,  he  felt  him- 
self seized  by  the  collar,  and  lifted  from  the  ground. 
He  looked  around,  and  saw  that  he  was  in  the  strong 
grasp  of  Oliver,  who,  from  some  reason  which  the  wiz- 
ard could  never  understand,  was  not  made  drowsy  by 
the  sleeping  powders.  Malagis  earnestly  begged  the 
knight  to  set  him  free.  But  Oliver  would  not  listen  to 
a  word.  He  aroused  the  sleepers  in  the  tent,  and  car- 
ried the  struggling  dwarf  into  the  king's  presence. 

"Ah,  thou  cunning  wizard  !"  cried  the  king,  "I  have 
thee  at  last !  Arid,  even  though  the  unseen  powers  be 
on  thy  side,  thou  shalt  not  get  off  easily." 

Then  he  ordered  Malagis  to  be  bound  and  carried 
out  of  the  camp  and  thrown  from  the  top  of  a  precipice. 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  wizard,  "  I  have  but  one  favor 
to  ask  of  you.  Let  me  live  long  enough  to  sit  once 
more  with  you  and  your  peers  at  the  banquet  table." 

"It  shall  be  as  thou  desirest,"  said  the  king;  "but 
tny  life  shall  not  be  much  the  longer  thereby/' 

Then  he  ordered  a  feast  to  be  made  ready  at 


Malagis  the   Wizard.  171 


and  he  sent  out  and  invited  the  noblest  of  his  barons 
to  come  and  eat  with  him.  It  was  midnight  when  the 
king  and  his  knights  sat  down  to  supper,  and  much  di« 
they  enjoy  the  good  food  and  the  rich  wine  which 
were  placed  before  them.  But  soon  they  began  to  fee! 
drowsy.  One  by  one  they  closed  their  eyes,  and  fell 
back  in  their  seats  fast  asleep.  In  a  short  time  not  a 
single  person  in  all  the  camp,  save  Malagis,  was  awake. 
His  eyes  twinkled  merrily  ;  and  he  could  not  help  jump- 
ing upon  the  table,  and  dancing  about  in  glee,  as  he  saw 
how  the  magic  powder  had  again  cast  a  spell  of  slumber 
over  all.  Then  he  stepped  softly  to  the  side  of  the 
sleeping  Charlemagne ;  and,  after  giving  him  an  extra 
pinch  of  the  snuff,  he  lifted  him  on  his  shoulders,  and 
carried  him  out  of  the  tent.  It  was  a  great  burden  for 
the  little  man  to  carry,  but  we  must  believe  that  his 
magic  increased  his  strength  tenfold  as  he  toiled  up 
the  narrow  mountain  paths  with  his  kingly  burden  on 
his  back. 

When  he  reached  the  castle,  the  gate  was  opened ; 
and  he  carried  the  king,  still  fast  asleep,  into  the 
broad  hall.  Great  was  the  astonishment  of  Reinold 
and  his  brothers  when  they  saw  what  kind  of  a  prisoner 
the  dwarf  had  brought  them. 

"  Your  troubles  are  at  an  end,  my  cousins,"  said  he. 
"  You  may  now  make  peace  on  your  own  terms." 

The  king  was  carried  to  the  best  guest  chamber  in 
the  castle,  and  every  thing  was  done  that  could  add  **» 
his  comfort.  But  he  did  noc  awaken  until  noon  the 


172  The  Story  of  Roland, 

next  day.  You  may  imagine  his  surprise  when  he 
opened  his  eyes,  and  found  himself,  not,  as  he  supposed, 
in  his  tent,  but  in  a  sumptuous  castle,  furnished  as 
grandly  as  his  own  palace.  For  a  long  time  he  would 
not  believe  but  that  it  was  all  a  dream ;  and  not  until 
Reinold  and  Malagis  came  into  his  presence,  and  told 
him  where  he  was,  and  how  he  came  there,  did  he  re- 
cover from  his  bewilderment.  At  first  he  was  very 
angry,  and  harshly  upbraided  them  for  their  treason. 
But  Reinold  did  not  once  forget  the  courtesy  that  is 
due  from  a  knight  to  his  king.  As  Charlemagne  was 
very  hungry  after  his  long  sleep,  he  was  persuaded  to 
sit  down  with  the  sons  of  Aymon  at  the  banquet  table, 
and  partake  of  the  choice  food  and  the  rare  wines  with 
which  Montalban  was  well  supplied.  But  when  the 
brothers  spoke  to  him  of  peace,  and  prayed  that  he 
would  let  bygones  be  bygones,  and  receive  them  again 
into  his  kingly  favor,  he  grew  angry  and  morose,  and 
bade  them  open  the  castle  gates,  and  let  him  go  back  to 
his  friends,  who  were  anxiously  seeking  him  in  the 
valley  below. 

"  Never  will  I  make  peace  with  you ! "  he  cried. 

tg  It  shall  not  be  said  that  I  have  dealt  harshly  with 
the  king,"  said  Reinold.  "  He  shall  have  his  freedom  ; 
and,  if  our  kindness  has  no  power  to  touch  his  heart, 
then  we  must  still  defend  ourselves  in  Montalban," 

And  the  king  went  out  of  the  castle,  and  back  to 
his  own  camp,  without  a  word  of  forgiveness  for  his 
unhappy  nephews. 


Maiagis  the   Wizard.  173 

As  Reinold  passed  through  the  courtyard  soon  after 
ward,  he  saw  Maiagis  the  wizard  burning  a  great  heap 
of  papers  and  boxes  and  odd  mixtures,  and  making 
strange  motions  and  gestures  over  them,  as  the  flames 
consumed  them. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  cousin  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  burning  all  the  tools  of  my  trade,"  said  Maia- 
gis sadly.  "  The  wizard's  art  is  thrown  away  upon  such 
men  as  you.  I  am  going  to  leave  Montalban,  never  to 
return  again.  Had  you  been  wise,  you  would  have  kept 
the  king  a  prisoner,  and  forced  him  to  grant  you  peace." 

After  Charlemagne  had  gone  back  to  his  camp,  he 
began  to  think  more  seriously  about  this  long  and 
profitless  war  with  his  nephews. 

"  Why  not  bring  it  to  a  close  by  granting  them  your 
forgiveness  ? "  asked  Roland. 

"But  my  oath,"  said  Charlemagne.  "I  dare  not 
forget  my  oath." 

"True,"  answered  Roland.  "But  what  was  your 
oath  ?  —  that  you  would  not  make  peace,  nor  grant  your 
forgiveness,  until  you  had  dined  in  the  banquet  hall  of 
Montalban  ? " 

"  That  was  my  oath,  and  it  shall  be  remembered." 

"  But  have  you  not  dined  to-day  in  the  banquet-hall 
of  Montalban?" 

The  king  was  silent,  and  he  went  and  shut  himself 
up  alone  in  his  tent.  The  next  day  he  sent  a  messen- 
ger to  the  heroes  of  Montalban,  offering  to  make  peace 
with  them  on  their  own  terms,  to  grant  them  full  par 


1 74  The  Story  of  Roland. 

don  for  all  past  offences,  and  to  restore  to  them  all  the 
honors,  fiefs,  and  dignities  which  were  theirs  by  right 
And  thus  the  sorrowful  wars  with  Duke  Ayraon's  sons 
were  ended.1 

i  ast  tfes 


The  Princess  of  Catkay.  173 


ADVENTURE   Kill 


THE   PRINCESS   OF  CATHAY. 

IT  was  the  season  of  Pentecost,  and  Charlemagne 
was  holding  a  great  feast  and  a  high  tide  of  rejoicing 
at  Paris.  The  city  was  dressed  in  holiday  attire ;  and 
there  was  much  banqueting,  and  music  and  dancing, 
and  jousting,  and  many  gallant  deeds  at  arms.  And 
i:he  noblest  men  and  the  fairest  women  in  Christendom 
had  gathered  there  to  do  honor  to  the  king  and  to 
share  in  the  glad  festivities.  For,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  Charlemagne  was  now,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
reign,  at  peace  with  all  the  world.  Neither  foes  abroad 
nor  traitors  at  home  dared  lift  up  their  heads,  or  show 
their  hands. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  feast  a  grand  tournament  was 
held  in  the  meadows ;  and  the  king  and  his  peers,  and 
the  lordly  strangers  who  were  visiting  at  the  court. 
were  there.  Some  merely  sat  in  the  galleries  as  spec- 
tators :  others  entered  the  lists  as  contestants  in  the 
noble  passage-at-arms.  There  might  have  been  seei? 
Roland  and  Oliver,  and  Ogier  the  Dane,  and  Reinold 
of  Montalban,  and  wi&s  ®!d  Duke  Namon.  and  evil-eved 


1 76  The  Story  of  Roiand. 

Ganelon,  and  even  the  cunning  wizard  Malagis.  Therer 
too,  were  the  queen  and  her  train  of  high-born  dames, 
and  the  fairest  damsels  that  the  sun  of  France  had  ever 
shone  upon.  But  fairer  than  all  others  was  the  match 
less  maiden  Alda,  the  betrothed  of  Roland.  And  most 
worthy  among  the  strangers  was  a  young  English 
knight  named  Astolpho, —  a  poet  by  birth,  and  fairer 
of  face  and  speech  than  he  was  skilful  in  the  use  of 
arms.  There,  also,  were  several  Pagan  princes,  who  had 
come  to  Paris  either  to  see  and  admire  the  splendor  and 
the  power  of  the  Christian  king,  or  to  spy  out  the  weak 
points  in  his  government,  and  determine  what  his  real 
strength  might  be.  Chief  among  these  was  a  dark 
faced  giant  named  Ferrau,  a  prince  of  Saragossa,  who 
was  said  to  be  the  ablest  and  bravest  of  all  the  Saracen 
knights  in  the  train  of  King  Marsilius  of  Spain.  But 
no  one  of  all  the  great  company  who  met  to  view 
the  tournament  there  in  the  Seine  meadows  could 
excel  Roland  in  grace  and  strength  and  skill.  Many 
were  the  feats  at  arms  that  he  performed  that  day,  and 
in  more  than  one  combat  was  he  hailed  the  victor. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  heralds  had  an- 
nounced the  cessation  of  the  day's  amusements,  and 
the  folk  were  about  to  leave  the  place,  the  sound  of  a 
bugle  was  heard  outside  of  the  lists.  And  when,  by 
the  king's  command,  the  barriers  were  thrown  open  to 
admit  the  new-comer,  whoever  he  might  be,  there  came 
a  strange  procession  through.  Four  giants,  taller  by 
half  than  the  tallest  man  in  Charlemagne's  court,  pre 


The  Princess  of  Cathay.  177 

sented  themselves,  and  came  directly  toward  the  king. 
Their  faces  were  dark  and  fierce ;  and  they  looked  down 
upon  the  knights,  who  made  way  for  them,  with  an  ill- 
hidden  expression  of  scorn.  Behind  them,  on  a  milk- 
white  palfrey,  rode  a  young  lady.  A  princess  she 
seemed,  and  the  most  beautiful  that  Charlemagne  or 
his  knights  had  ever  looked  upon.  She  was  dressed  in 
the  fashion  of  the  Far  East,  and  upon  her  head  was  a 
diadem  of  pearls  ;  and  the  palfrey  upon  which  she  sat 
was  trapped  to  the  foot  in  blue  velvet,  bordered  with 
crimson  cloth-of-gold.  And  by  the  side  of  the  strange 
lady  there  rode  a  noble  knight,  clad  in  a  war  coat  of 
polished  brass,  upon  a  war  steed  harnessed  in  white 
cloth-of-gold,  bearing  a  device  of  eyes  full  of  tears 
And  neither  knight  nor  lady  looked  to  the  right  or  to 
the  left,  but  followed  their  huge  guides  straight  toward 
the  place  where  the  king  sat 

When  Charlemagne  first  saw  the  giants  coming  so 
boldly  in  on  foot,  he  was  on  the  point  of  ordering  them 
driven  from  the  lists.  But  when  his  eyes  rested  on  the 
rare  beauty  of  the  strange  princess  who  followed  them, 
and  on  the  proud  form  of  the  knight,  her  companion, 
he  allowed  them  to  come  very  near  to  him  in  order 
that  he  might  the  better  see  them,  and  speak  with  them. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  asked.  "  And  why  come  you 
here  at  this  late  hour  of  the  day,  unheralded  and 
unknown  ? ' 

The  four  giants  made  humble  obeisance  to  the  king, 
but  said  not  a  word.  The  knight  sat  upright  on  his 


178  The  Story  of  Roland. 

charger,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground  before  him,  his 
face  immovable  as  that  of  a  statue,  seeming:  neither  to 
hear  nor  to  see  aught  that  was  going-  on  around  him. 
But  the  lady  rode  forward  until  she  was  directly  in 
front  of  the  high  seats.  And  she  courtesied  reverently 
to  the  king;  and.  lifting  her  peerless  eyes  towards  him. 
she  said,— 

'  Right  high,  right  worthy,  and  right  mighty  king,  I 
am  Angelica.  My  father  is  King  Galafron,  the  ruler 
of  far-off  Cathay  ;  and  he  is,  next  to  you,  the  mightiest 
monarch  in  the  world.  This  young  knight  who  rides 
by  my  side  is  my  brother  Argalia,  than  whom  few 
braver  men  are  known.  By  the  leave  of  our  kingly 
father  we  have  journeyed  from  the  rising  sun  to  the 
western  sea,  viewing  the  wonders  of  nature,  and  the 
power  of  men,  and  the  might  of  Christendom.  And 
we  seek  a  knight  without  fear  and  without  shame,  who 
will  dare  meet  my  brother  in  honorable  act  of  arms." 

At  these  words  several  of  the  knights  sprang  up, 
eager  to  offer  the  gage  of  battle  to  the  new-comer. 
But  Charlemagne  motioned  them  to  be  quiet ;  and  the 
Princess  Angelica  went  on  :  — 

'We  have  heard,  most  noble  king,  that  you   are   at 

peace  with  all  the  world,  and  for  that  reason  we  have 
been  the  more  bold  to  come  into  your  country.  And 
we  had  hoped  to  be  here  to  take  part  in  the  passage-at- 
arms  to-day,  but  were  delayed  in  the  journey.  And 
now,  since  the  hour  is  too  late  for  any  further  jousting, 
allow  me  to  challenge  you  and  the  bravest  of  your 


The  Princess  of  Catkay.  179 

knights  to  meet  my  brother  Argalia  in  single  combat 
with  lance  to-morrow  at  the  foot  of  the  Stair  of 
Merlin/' 

"We  most  certainly  accept  the  challenge,"  said  the 
king,  smiling. 

14  But  listen  to  the  conditions,"  said  the  princess 
"  Whoever  is  unhorsed  by  my  brother  becomes  his  law- 
ful prisoner,  and  is  held  by  him  as  a  hostage  until  he  is 
ransomed.  But,  should  any  knight  overcome  my  brother 
in  fair  fight,  that  knight  may,  if  he  choose,  claim  me  as 
his  wife,  and  all  my  dowry  as  his  reward.  For  the  Fates 
have  written  that  this  can  be  done  only  by  the  greatest 
hero  in  the  world." 

All  the  men  who  stood  near  and  heard  this  chal- 
lenge were  astonished  at  the  strangeness  of  the  terms 
which  were  offered,  and  yet  they  were  all  the  more 
eager  to  engage  in  combat  with  the  young  prince. 
For,  the  longer  they  looked  upon  the  matchless  form 
and  features  of  Angelica,  the  more  they  were  enrap- 
tured with  her  heavenly  beauty. 

"  We  accept  the  conditions,"  said  the  king  graciously. 
"To-morrow  morning  the  worthiest  warriors  in  my 
realm  shall  meet  thy  brother  in  a  trial  of  arms  at  the 
Stair  of  Merlin,  If  any  man  fail,  he  forfeits  his 
freedom.  But  remember  the  reward  that  is  promised 
the  victor ! ' 

"It  is  well,"  answered  the  princess.  "We  shall 
remember." 

Then,  saluting  the  king  reverently,  she  turned  hes 


1 80  The  Story  of  Roland. 


palfrey  about,  and  with  her  brother  followed  her  giant 
escort  out  of  the  lists. 

And  now  a  great  dispute  arose  among  the  knightS; 
Each  one  was  anxious  to  be  the  first  to  try  his  strength 
and  skill  in  the  joust  with  the  Prince  of  Cathay.  Charle 
magne,  seeing  that  the  question  could  be  settled  in  no 
other  way,  declared  that  the  whole  matter  should  be 
left  to  chance,  and  ordered  that  lots  should  be  drawn. 
Thirty-one  knights  offered  themselves,  and  not  one  felt 
any  doubt  but  that  the  palm  of  victory  in  the  coming 
contest  would  be  his.  Each  wrote  his  name  on  a  bit  of 
parchment,  which  he  dropped  into  Roland's  helmet 
Then  the  slips  were  drawn  out  one  by  one  by  a  blind- 
folded page,  and  the  names  were  read  in  their  order  by 
Archbishop  Turpin.  The  first  name  was  that  of  the 
English  knight,  Astolpho.  Everybody  smiled  when  it 
was  read,  —  some  in  disdain,  others  in  ridicule.  And 
some  were  so  unmannerly  as  to  hint  that  the  fair-haired 
foreigner  would  succeed  better  in  a  tourney  with  min- 
strels, with  the  harp  as  his  weapon  instead  of  the  lance. 

"  Has  he  ever  been  known  to  unhorse  his  opponent  ? f 
asked  one. 

"  Never,"  was  the  answer.  "  But  he  has  been  known 
to  tumble  from  his  own  steed  at  the  mere  sight  of  a 
lance." 

The  second  name  drawn  was  that  of  the  dark-browed 
Pagan  chief,  Ferrau.  There  was  a  low  murmur  of  dis- 
appointment among  the  knights;  for  the  fierce  Moor 
was  noted,  not  only  for  his  great  strength,  but  for  his 


The  Princess  of  Cathay.  18 1 

skill  also  in  every  feat  of  arms.  And  all  felt  that  Argalia 
must  indeed  acquit  himself  well  if  he  would  come  out 
whole  and  well  from  a  combat  with  so  valiant  a  foe. 

"  It  seems  as  if  these  heathen  foreigners  are  to  snatch 
all  the  honors  out  of  our  hands,"  said  Oliver. 

"  It  shall  not  be  ! '  answered  Reinold,  biting  his  lips 
in  anger. 

The  third  name  was  that  of  Ogier  the  Dane,  and 
there  was  a  general  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Another  foreigner  ! '  said  Duke  Ganelon  disdain- 
uilly. 

"  And  yet  he  is  a  more  loyal  Frenchman  than  thou," 
answered  Roland,  turning  sharply  upon  the  old  traitor, 
and  gazing  so  fiercely  into  his  face  that  he  was  glad  to 
slink  away  from  the  place. 

The  fourth  name  was  that  of  Reinold  of  Montalban  ; 
and  the  fifth  was  that  of  the  king  himself.  Oliver's 
name  was  the  tenth.  But  Roland,  who  was  burning 
with  impatience  to  distinguish  himself  in  a  combat  like 
this,  was  left  until  the  very  last :  his  name  was  the 
thirty-first.  Among  all  the  knights  who  had  offered 
themselves  as  combatants  in  the  act  of  arms  which  wa« 
about  to  take  place,  not  one,  save  Ferrau  the  fierce  Moor, 
was  satisfied  with  the  lots. 

That  evening  Malagis  the  wizard  opened  his  book  of 
enchantments,  and  sought  to  find  out  therefrom  what 
fortune  the  Fates  had  in  store  for  him  and  his  friends 
But  he  desired  most  to  know  what  would  be  the  end  oi 
the  jousting  on  the  riorrow,  and  whether  aught  of  hone* 


1 82  The  Story  of  Roland. 

should  accrue  to  his  cousin  Reinold  of  Montalban.  Ag 
he  looked  in  his  book,  strange,  weird  creatures  came 
and  danced  before  him.  Fairies  and  hobgoblins,  good 
arid  bad,  flocked  into  his  chamber,  and  courtesied  and 
bowed,  and  saluted  him  as  their  master.  And  every  one 
seemed  anxious  to  tell  him  something,  and  waited  only 
for  his  questions,  or  for  his  gracious  leave  to  speak. 
Did  you  ever  think,  rny  children,  that  there  is  magic  in 
every  book,  and  that  when  you  open  the  pages,  good 
fairies  or  wicked  elves  come  and  whisper  to  you  ?  The 
words  are  the  mysterious  creatures  that  salute  the  magi- 
cian who  reads  ;  and  they  tell  him  of  the  wonderful  past, 
and  lay  bare  for  him  the  secrets  of  the  present  and  the 
future. 

Among  the  ghostly  visitors  who  came  at  the  wizard's 
call  was  a  little  elf  who  never  had  told  a  falsehood,  or 
concealed  aught  that  he  knew.  Of  him  Malagis  asked 
many  questions  about  the  Princess  Angelica  and  her 
brother  Argalia.  And  this  is  what  the  elf  whispered 
in  the  ear  of  the  cunning  wizard,  — 

"Angelica  and  Argalia  are  truly  the  children  of 
mighty  Galafron,  king  of  Cathay.  But  they  come  to 
France  on  no  peaceful  errand.  Their  object  is  to  de 
stroy  the  bravest  and  the  best  of  the  Christian  knights, 
and  in  the  end  to  overthrow  the  whole  of  Christendom. 
Do  you  ask  how  a  beautiful  young  lady,  and  a  knight 
single-handed  and  alone,  can  hope  to  do  so  great  mis- 
chief ?  It  is  all  very  simple.  I  will  tell  you.  Prince 
Argalia  carries  an  enchanted  lance,  —  a  beam  which  is 


Princess  of  Cathay. 


sure  to  unhorse  whomsoever  it  touches,  and  which  has 
never  been  known  to  fail.  His  shield  is  equally  wonder- 
ful ;  for  every  weapon  that  comes  toward  it  turns  aside 
in  its  course,  and  refuses  to  touch  it.  And  he  rides  a 
horse  which  is  as  fleet  as  the  hurricane :  not  even  the 
famed  Bayard  can  outstrip  him.  The  stoutest  warrior 
can  scarcely  hope  to  contend  successfully  with  such  a 
foe.  But  what  I  have  told  you  is  not  all.  Even  should 
Argalia  be  defeated  in  the  joust,  it  is  not  likely  that  the 
victor  can  ever  gain  the  prize  which  has  been  promised  ; 
for  the  princess  carries  with  her  a  magic  ring  the  like 
of  which  is  not  known  in  your  books.  When  any  dan- 
ger threatens  her,  she  places  this  ring  in  her  mouth, 
and  all  at  once  she  vanishes  from  mortal  sight ;  and  she 
is  carried  with  the  speed  of  thought  to  whatever  place 
she  wishes  to  go." 

When  Malagis  had  learned,  all  that  was  to  be  known 
about  Angelica  and  her  brother,  he  closed  his  book,  and 
sent  his  fairy  visitors  away.  And  he  sat  for  a  long  time 
alone  in  his  chamber,  planning  what  he  should  do.  At 
first  he  thought  of  warning  the  king  of  the  danger 
which  threatened.  But  he  knew  that  Charlemagne  had 
little  faith  in  magic,  and  that  he  would  only  laugh  at 
his  story :  so,  upon  second  thought,  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  keep  the  whole  matter  a  secret,  and  to  under- 
take alone  the  task  of  saving  France  from  the  cunning 
infidels.  When  every  one  in  the  palace  was  asleep,  and 
all  was  silent  and  dark,  the  little  man  wrapped  his  long 
cloak  around  him,  and  stole  quietly  out  of  his  chamber 


184  The  Story  of  Roland, 

Under  his  arm  he  carried  his  book  of  enchantments, 
and  in  his  hand  he  held  his  wizard's  wand,  while  beneath 
his  cloak  he  carried  a  short  sword.  Straight  to  the 
Stair  of  Merlin  he  went,  where  he  knew  he  would  find 
the  Princess  of  Cathay  and  her  noble  brother.  He  had 
no  trouble  in  finding  the  place,  even  in  the  dark  ;  for  he 
had  often  been  there,  in  times  now  long  past,  to  talk 
with  Merlin,  the  wise  wizard  of  Britain,  from  whom  he 
had  learned  all  his  lore. 

In  the  midst  of  the  meadow  adjoining  the  Stair  of 
Merlin  stood  a  rich  pavilion.  It  was  covered  with 
double  blue  satin,  and  rich  cloths  from  India,  upon  which 
were  embroidered  many  strange  devices  in  silver  and 
gold.  And  above  it  floated  four  and  twenty  banners 
bearing  the  arms  and  mottoes  of  the  princes  of  Cathay. 
At  the  door  of  this  pavilion  two  swarthy  giants  stood, 
with  huge  clubs  in  their  hands,  and  cimeters  at  their 
sides.  Fiercely  they  glared  at  Malagis  as  he  came 
toward  them ;  and,  had  he  not  glared  back  with  some- 
thing of  the  same  fierceness,  there  is  no  knowing  what 
mischief  they  might  have  done  him.  But  they  quailed 
beneath  the  glances  of  the  little  old  wizard ;  and,  when 
they  saw  the  book  which  he  carried  under  his  arm,  they 
began  to  tremble,  for  ignorance  is  always  thus  fearful 
in  the  presence  of  knowledge.  Yet,  when  Malagis 
would  have  entered  the  tent,  the  giants  raised  their 
great  bludgeons  ;  and,  although  they  dared  not  look  him 
in  the  face,  they  stood  ready  to  strike  him  down.  Then 
the  wizard  waved  his  wand  in  the  air,  and  opened  his 


The  Princess  of  Cathay.  185 

book,  and  began  to  read.  And  forthwith  the  giants 
dropped  their  clubs  to  the  ground,  and  began  to  yawn, 
And,  as  he  kept  on  reading,  their  eyes  grew  heavy,  so 
that  they  could  no  longer  keep  them  open.  And  soon 
they  were  fast  asleep,  and  recked  not  who  came  in, 
or  who  passed  out.  Then  Malagis  walked  boldly  into 
the  inner  court  of  the  pavilion.  Inside  of  the  door  he 
found  the  other  two  giants  seated  on  a  bench  ;  but  they 
also  were  fast  asleep,  and  the  wizard  passed  by  them 
unchallenged.  In  one  part  of  the  pavilion,  which  was 
hung  with  rich  cloth-of-gold,  and  furnished  most  gor- 
geously, after  the  manner  of  the  Far  East,  the  charming 
Angelica  was  reclining  on  her  couch ;  and  near  her  sat 
her  maidens  and  attendants,  all  wrapped  in  the  deepest 
slumber.  When  Malagis  gazed  upon  the  sweet  face  of 
the  Pagan  princess,  he  thought  that  in  the  whole  world 
there  was  not  any  vision  half  so  lovely.  He  wondered 
if  the  angels  were  as  beautiful,  and  he  was  half  tempted 
to  fall  down  and  worship.  Never  before  had  wizard 
been  so  bewitched.  He  had  come  to  the  pavilion  deter- 
mined to  kill  both  the  princess  and  the  prince,  and  thus 
save  Charlemagne  and  his  peers  from  the  great  peril 
which  threatened  them.  But  in  the  presence  of  the 
peerless  beauty  he  forgot  all  his  learning  and  all  his 
wizard's  skill  and  all  his  loyalty  to  the  king.  His  book 
slipped  out  of  his  hands,  and  fell  with  a  rustling  crash 
upon  the  ground.  The  spell  was  broken,  and  the  noise 
awakened  the  princess  and  her  maidens.  They  sprang 
to  their  feet,  and  screamed  with  affright.  Argalia,  who 


!86  The  Story  of  Roland. 

was  sleeping-  in  another  room,  was  aroused,  and  with, 
drawn  sword  hastened  to  the  rescue.  The  giants,  too, 
rushed  in  with  their  huge  bludgeons  raised  in  air.  But, 
when  they  saw  only  the  trembling  wizard  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  they  dropped  their  weapons, 
scorning  to  strike  a  foe  so  weak  and  pitiable.  Sorry, 
indeed,  was  the  plight  of  the  wan -faced  old  man,  shorn 
now  of  all  his  power,  and  forgetful  of  his  magic  lore, 
He  fell  helpless  at  the  feet  of  the  charming  princess. 

"  Spare  him,"  said  Angelica  to  her  brother,  who  had 
again  raised  his  sword.  "There  is  no  honor  in  crush- 
ing a  worm  so  poor  and  harmless.  But  let  us  turn  his 
own  enchantments  against  him,  and  send  him  to  our 
good  father  Galafron  in  Cathay,  that  our  folk  may  know 
what  kind  of  knights  these  Christians  are  who  would 
slay  us  while  we  sleep." 

Then  she  took  up  the  wand  which  had  fallen  from 
the  wizard's  hand,  and  with  it  she  drew  a  circle  upon 
the  ground,  calling  three  times  upon  the  name  of  Mah- 
met.  And  she  opened  the  book  of  enchantments,  and 
read  from  it  And  the  pavilion  was  filled  with  a  pale 
blue  smoke ;  and  forked  lightnings  flashed  through  the 
darkness,  and  the  winds  moaned,  arid  the  thunder  rolled. 
And  a  score  of  strange  creatures  —  hobgoblins  and 
elves  and  winged  afrits  —  came  and  stood  around  tnc 
magic  circle.  Then,  at  a  word  from  Angelica,  they 
took  up  the  trembling  Malagis,  a-»id  bore  him  away. 
And  they  carried  him  over  fields  and  wooded  plains, 
and  across  broad  rivers  and  the  snowy  mountains  and 


The  Princess  of  Cathay.  187 


the  billowy  seas  and  many  strange  countries,  until  at 
last  they  reached  the  land  of  the  rising  sun,  and  gave 
him  over  to  Galafron,  king  of  Cathay.  The  king  gazed 
with  contempt  upon  the  wan  and  shrivelled  features  of 
the  fallen  wizard,  and  he  wondered  if  all  the  knights  in 
Christendom  were  like  this  one.  Malagis  in  vain  prayed 
for  mercy.  Galafron  could  not  understand  a  word  that 
he  said,  nor  was  he  in  a  mood  to  show  kindness  to  one 
who  had  basely  sought  to  take  the  life  of  his  daughter 
Angelica.  And  he  ordered  that  the  old  man  should  be 
imprisoned  in  a  hollow  rock  beneath  the  sea,  where  he 
should  never  more  behold  the  light  of  the  sun,  or  hear 
the  glad  sounds  of  day. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  knights  who  had  offered 
to  joust  with  Prince  Argalia  rode  out  together  to  the 
Stair  of  Merlin.  They  found  the  Pagan  mounted  upon 
his  wonderful  charger,  and  ready  for  the  fray.  And  a 
great  company  of  lords  and  ladies  and  squires  and  serv- 
ing men  had  assembled  there,  eager  to  view  the  combat. 
And  so  noble  was  the  bearing  of  the  Prince  of  Cathay, 
that,  had  he  been  a  Christian  knight,  he  would  have  had 
the  sympathy  of  all  the  lookers-on. 

As  the  lots  had  decided,  the  first  to  enter  the  lists 
was  Astolpho  of  England.  The  trumpets  sounded  for 
the  onset,  and  the  two  combatants  rushed  toward  each 
other  with  the  speed  of  the  wind.  As  everybody  had 
expected,  Astolpho  was  hurled  headlong  from  his  saddle, 
and  lay  entangled  in  his  heavy  armor,  helpless  in  the 
dust,  Argalia  gallantly  dismounted,  and  assisted  him 


1 88  The  Story  of  Roland. 

to  rise.  He  kindly  arranged  his  helmet,  which  had  faller 
from  his  head,  and  then,  according  to  the  terms  which 
had  been  agreed  upon,  led  him  to  the  pavilion,  where  he 
was  to  remain  a  prisoner. 

There  was  a  general  murmur  among  the  lookers  on  ; 
but  whether  it  was  a.  murmur  of  regret  for  the  nc? 
unlooked-for  mischance  of  the  poet  knight,  or  of  ad 
miration  for  the  skill  and  courtesy  of  the  Pagan  prince. 
I  cannot  say. 

And  now  all  was  hushed  in  anxious  expectation  and 
dread,  as  the  fierce  Ferrau  rode  out  and  took  his  place 
in  the  lists.  A  very  giant  in  size,  boastful  of  speech, 
rude  and  uncouth  in  manners,  he  seemed  no  fair  match 
for  the  light-built  and  courteous  knight  of  Cathay.  He 
was  clad  in  a  complete  suit  of  black  armor,  and  above 
his  helmet's  crest  there  waved  a  raven's  plume.  He 
was  mounted  on  a  charger  black  as  night,  the  trappings 
of  which  were  of  black  velvet  embellished  with  gold 
embroidery  and  a  figure  of  the  new  moon  embracing 
the  morning  star.  Not  a  single  well-wisher  had  tne 
fierce  Moor  in  all  that  company  of  lookers-on. 

When  every  thing  was  in  readiness,  the  trumpets 
*gain  sounded  the  signal  for  the  onset.  The  two 
Pagans  gave  rein  to  their  well-trained  steeds,  and 
dashed  across  the  turf.  Their  lances  crashed  against 
the  opposing  shields,  and  every  one  expected  that 
Argalia  would  be  unhorsed.  What,  then,  was  the  aston- 
ishment and  delight  of  all,  when  they  saw  him  ride 
proudly  onward,  while  the  fierce  Ferrau  was  hrj-led  fron? 


The  Princess  of  Cathay.  189 

_ij»ll     ••••  •••    ii       ^•••^^•^^^^^^^••^•••i — ^^^^— ^^••^^^•^^^••^••i    i  i  n.  —   .  .  .        i  i  .     »i  .     i       •.      .1-1,111  i  r 

the  saddle,  and  rolled  ingloriously  upon  the  ground  !  A 
great  shout  went  up  from  the  multitude  of  lookers-on, 
—  a  shout  of  joy,  because  they  supposed  that  rude  brute 
force  had  for  once  been  vanquished  by  skill :  for  no 
one  knew  that  the  lance  which  Argalia  bore  was  an 
enchanted  one ;  and  the  rude  Ferrau,  although  a  guest 
at  the  court  of  Charlemagne,  was  no  favorite.  Again 
and  again  the  air  was  rent  with  cheers  for  the  valiant 
Prince  of  Cathay  ;  while  Argalia,  never  forgetful  of  the 
courtesy  due  to  a  fallen  foe,  turned  and  rode  back  in 
order  to  help  Ferrau  to  his  feet.  But  the  fierce  Moor, 
stung  to  madness  by  his  unlooked-for  overthrow,  and 
goaded  into  still  greater  wrath  by  the  cheers  which  were 
heard  on  every  side,  had  already  risen.  He  drew  his 
sword  from  its  scabbard,  and  dared  the  Cathayan  knight 
to  continue  the  fight  on  foot.  The  guards  now  stepped 
before  him,  and  reminded  him  of  the  terms  that  had 
been  agreed  upon  with  Charlemagne. 

"  What  are  Charlemagne's  agreements  to  me  ? '  he 
cried  angrily.  "  He  is  no  king  of  mine  :  I  owe  him  no 
allegiance," 

Fiercely,  madly,  he  attacked  the  knight  of  Cathay. 
Very  skilfully  did  Argalia  defend  himself ;  but  neither 
his  skill  nor  his  enchanted  shield  availed  much  against 
the  furious  strokes  of  his  giant  foe.  The  contest  was  a 
short  one.  Argalia  was  disarmed,  and  thrown  to  the 
earth.  Ferrau  knelt  upon  his  breast,  and,  drawing  his 
dagger,  held  it  to  the  throat  of  the  vanquished  knight. 

"  On  one  condition  only  shalt  thou  have  thy  life,* 


i  go  Tke  Story  of  Kolanct. 

he  growled  savagely.  "  Promise  me,  on  thy  faith  as  a 
Mahometan,  that  thy  sister  Angelica  shall  be  my  wife, 
and  that  all  her  dowry  shall  be  mine ! ' 

Had  Argalia  been  a  Christian  knight,  he  would  have 
scorned  to  have  asked  for  his  life  on  any  terms,  much 
more  would  he  have  disdained  to  bargain  for  it  thus. 
But  he  was  only  a  Pagan ;  and,  although  he  was  very 
courteous  and  noble,  he  lacked  some  of  those  higher 
qualities  of  rnind  and  heart  which  distinguished  the 
true  Christian  knight ;  and  so,  after  a  little  parley,  he 
agreed  to  the  terms  offered  by  Ferrau.  And  amid 
groans,  and  cries  of  "  Shame  !  shame ! "  from  the  lookers- 
on,  he  was  allowed  to  rise  to  his  feet. 

But  Angelica  liked  not  the  thought  of  being  made 
the  wife  of  a  man  so  fierce  and  brutish  as  Ferrau.  She 
had  had  no  voice  in  the  agreement  with  the  Moor,  and 
she  made  up  her  mind  not  to  be  bound  by  it.  In  spite 
of  the  guards,  she  sprang  over  the  barriers,  and  hurried 
to  her  brother's  side. 

"  Never  will  your  sister  be  the  bride  of  a  knight  so 
unworthy  and  so  base!'  she  cried.  Then  in  a  lo^v 
whisper  she  said,  "Meet  me  in  the  wood  of  Ardennes/5 

She  took  the  magic  ring  from  her  finger,  and  put  it 
between  her  cherry  lips.  Quick  as  thought  she  van- 
ished from  sight.  Only  a  thin,  white  cloud,  beautiful  as 
a  midsummer  night's  dream,  and  not  a  whit  more  last- 
ing, arose  in  the  air,  and  floated  away  on  the  breeze 
toward  the  forest  of  Ardennes.  When  the  Moor  saw, 
'•hat.  after  all,  he  had  been  outwitted,  and  that  the  peer 


The  Princess  of  Cathay.  rgi 

•*.<***.*»*J*imm  MH  ••••o— ••••••••••••••••-^^•^••••^•^^^••••••^••••••••^^^••i  ...••..  .      i  .  .       i  .u    •  ,      ,  ,  ,    ¥ 

iess  Angelica  had  escaped  beyond  his  reach,  his  wrath 
knew  no  bounds.  With  uplifted  sword  he  rushed  g 
second  time  toward  the  knight  of  Cathay,  intending  to 
strike  him  dead,  But  Argalia  was  too  quick  for  him. 
He  had  already  mounted  his  swift-footed  steed,  and  at 
a  word  he  was  flying  with  the  speed  of  a  hurricane 
across  field  and  wood,  and  over  hill  and  dale,  toward 
the  trysting-place  named  by  Angelica, 

Everybody  was  astonished  at  the  strange  ending  of 
the  jousts,  and  there  was  not  a  little  disappointment 
and  confusion.  The  fierce  Moor  gave  spurs  to  his 
night-black  steed,  and  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  flying 
Argalia.  Roland,  knowing  that  should  the  prince  be 
overtaken  he  would  fare  but  ill  at  the  hands  of  his 
wrathful  enemy,  mounted  his  own  favorite  horse  Briglia- 
doro,  and  rode  swiftly  after  them.  Then  Reinold,  burn- 
ing with  impatience  to  view  once  more  the  heavenly 
beauty  of  Angelica,  gave  rein  to  Bayard,  and  soon  out- 
stripped and  passed  both  Roland  and  Ferrau.  A 
strange,  exciting  race  was  that  from  the  Stair  of  Merlin 
to  the  wood  of  Ardennes.1 

1  See  Nate  12  at  tfae  ead  el  tMs 


192  The  Story  of  Roland. 


ADVENTURE  XIV. 


IN   THE  WOOD   OF  ARDENNES. 

IN  the  wood  of  Ardennes,  far  from  the  common 
haunts  of  men,  there  was  a  meadow,  shut  in  on  all  sides 
by  tall  trees  and  a  thick  growth  of  underwood.  There 
the  ground  was  covered  with  a  rich  carpet  of  the  tender- 
est  green  grass,  speckled  with  daisies  and  buttercups, 
and  broidered  with  wild  roses  and  lilies-of-the-valley ; 
and  the  air  was  sweet  with  the  fragrance  of  the  spring- 
blossoms,  and  musical  with  the  joyous  notes  of  the 
song  birds.  It  was  a  place  fitted  for  rest  and  pleasant 
thought,  where  the  harsh  sounds  of  warlike  strife  and 
busy  labor  could  never  intrude. 

On  one  side  of  this  meadow,  half  hidden  in  a  grove 
of  drooping  willows,  was  a  fountain,  walled  in  with  pure 
white  marble  and  once  very  beautiful,  but  now  sadly 
neglected  and  falling  into  decay.  Men  say  that  the 
wise  wizard  Merlin  built  this  fountain  in  the  days  of 
good  King  Arthur,  hoping  that  Tristram  and  the  fair 
Isolde  would  drink  of  its  waters  ;  for  whosoever  tasted 
of  them  was  filled  at  once  with  a  strange  feeling  of  hate 
toward  the  one  whom  he  had  loved  before,  and  he 


In  the   Wood  of  Ardennes.  193 

loathed  the  things  which  formerly  had  seemed  most  fair 
to  him.  Not  far  from  this  spot  was  another  fountain, 
built,  it  was  said,  in  the  golden  times,  when  the  gods 
walked  and  talked  with  men.  The  pool  into  which  its 
waters  fell  was  of  wonderful  depth,  and  yet  so  clear 
that  the  smallest  pebble  could  be  plainly  seen  at  the 
bottom.  Men  said  that  the  wood  nymphs  used  often  to 
come  here  to  bathe,  and  that  the  naiads  delighted  to  sit 
on  its  banks,  and  admire  their  own  beauty  reflected 
from  below.  And  some  wise  wizard  of  old  had  given 
to  the  waters  of  this  spring  qualities  as  strange  as 
those  which  distinguished  the  fountain  of  Merlin ;  for 
whosoever  drank  of  them  was  forthwith  filled  with  the 
maddest  love  and  admiration  for  the  first  human  being 
whom  he  chanced  thereafter  to  meet. 

To  this  happy  meadow  Angelica  came,  after  flying 
unseen  from  the  tournament  at  Merlin's  Stair ;  and  here 
she  waited  the  coming  of  her  brother  Argalia.  All  day 
1ong  she  busied  herself,  plucking  the  flowers  in  the 
meadow,  or  listening  to  the  melody  of  the  birds,  or 
watching  the  plashing  of  the  water  in  the  fountains ; 
and  she  wondered  why  Argalia  so  long  delayed  his 
coming.  Alas  !  her  princely  brother  would  never  meet 
her  at  trysting  place  again.  As  I  have  told  you,  he  had 
fled  from  the  tilting  place  with  the  speed  of  the  wind, 
intending  to  meet  his  sister  in  the  wood  of  Ardennes, 
and  with  her  to  go  back  without  delay  to  their  old  home 
:n  Cathay,  But  the  mid-day  sun  shone  hot  and  fierce 
upon  his  head,  and,  thinking  that  no  one  would  be  able 


The  Story  of  Rolana. 


to  overtake  him,  he  stopped  in  the  shadow  of  a  spread 
ing  oak  to  rest.  The  shade  was  so  cool  and  tempting, 
and  the  twitter  of  the  song  birds  was  so  pleasing,  and 
the  bees  hummed  so  drowsily  among  the  leaves,  that  he 
was  persuaded  to  dismount.  He  tethered  his  steed  to 
an  overhanging  bough  :  he  took  off  his  helmet,  and 
loosened  his  war  coat,  and,  stretching  himself  carelessly 
upon  the  grass,  was  soon  fast  asleep. 

While  Argalia  thus  slept  in  the  shade  of  the  oak, 
Reinold  of  Montalban,  mounted  on  the  fleet-footed 
Bayard,  passed  by.  And,  although  he  saw  the  knight 
of  Cathay  slumbering  soundly,  he  cared  not  to  waken 
him,  but  hastened  onward,  intent  on  catching  one  more 
glimpse  of  the  charming  Angelica.  Soon  afterward 
the  fierce  Ferrau,  fuming  with  fury,  and  full  of  fou) 
thoughts,  rode  up.  He  spied  the  sleeping  prince  under 
the  tree  :  his  eyes  gleamed  with  a  wicked  light,  and  his 
face  grew  dark  as  any  thunder  cloud.  No  true  knight 
would  have  harmed  a  sleeping  foe  :  he  would  have 
awakened  him,  and  given  him  time  to  arm  himself, 
But  the  Pagan  cared  naught  for  knightly  honor.  With- 
out dismounting  from  his  steed,  he  raised  his  gleaming 
sword  above  the  uncovered  head  of  Argalia  ;  and,  when 
the  weapon  fell,  the  gallant  Prince  of  Cathay  slept  the 
sleep  that  knows  not  waking.  Ferrau  returned  his 
blade  to  its  scabbard,  and  was  about  to  ride  on  again, 
when  he  saw  the  helmet  of  Argalia  lying  upon  the  grass 
where  that  hapless  knight  had  thrown  it.  It  was  a 
casque  of  great  beauty  and  rare  workmanship,  bounr: 


In  the   Wood  of  Ardennes.  195 

round  with  brass,  and  inlaid  with  gold  and  many  a  rich 
gem  stone.  The  Moor  turned  it  over,  and  lifted  it  on 
the  point  of  his  lance.  The  jewels  gleamed  in  the  sun- 
light,  and  shone  with  a  beauty  which  was  very  tempting 
to  him.  Save  the  helmet  of  Roland,  which  he  coveted 
above  every  thing  else  in  the  world,  Ferrau  had  never 
seen  aught  that  pleased  him  so  well.  He  unlaced  his 
own  black-painted  casque,  and  tried  the  jewelled  helmet 
on  his  head.  It  was  a  perfect  fit,  and  he  did  not  remove 
it.  He  threw  the  other,  with  the  raven  plume  still 
waving  from  its  crest,  upon  the  ground  by  the  side  of 
the  murdered  prince;  and  then,  setting  spurs  to  his 
steed,  he  galloped  hastily  onward  toward  the  wood  of 
Ardennes, 

Very  soon  afterward  Roland,  having  followed  as  fast 
as  Brigliadoro  would  carry  him,  came  up,  and  saw  the 
ill-fated  Argalia  stretched  upon  the  grass,  and  the  well- 
known  helmet  and  raven  plume  of  Ferrau  lying  by  his 
side. 

"  Ah,  me ! "  said  he.  "  What  felony  is  this  ?  This 
deed  was  never  done  in  fair  fight.  Beastly  treachery 
has  done  it.  And  thou,  gallant  Prince  of  Cathay,  eve» 
though  thou  wert  a  Pagan,  thou  shalt  not  be  unavenged" 

Without  pausing  another  moment,  he  gave  rein  to 
Brigliadoro,  and  galloped  swiftly  in  pursuit  of  the  base- 
hearted  Moor. 

In  the  mean  while  Angelica  had  become  tired  of  wan- 
dering  about  the  meadow  in  search  of  flowers.  She  had 
tired  of  the  birds'  songs,  and  tired  of  admiring 


196  The  Story  of  Roland. 

•  .1...I  I  «,        ll,^y^»-^»l»»»»»— ^^^»—  l.^^^^»  I.I  •          I'll •  •  I  I  .•..!•.•!.•.• 

herself  in  the  clear  mirror  of  the  pool :  so  she  drank  a 
deep  draught  of  water  from  the  fountain  of  the  nymphs, 
and  lay  down  upon  a  bed  of  roses  and  soft  moss  to  sleep. 
While  she  slept,  Reinold  of  Montalban  rode  into  the 
meadow.  He  was  very  weary  and  very  thirsty;  and  he 
stopped  at  the  fountain  of  Merlin,  and  refreshed  him- 
self from  its  clear  waters,  little  thinking  what  strange 
quality  they  possessed.  Then,  leading  Bayard  by  the 
reins,  he  walked  across  the  meadow  toward  the  other 
fountain.  There  he  saw  the  Princess  of  Cathay  fast 
asleep  among  the  roses.  But  in  his  eyes  she  was  no 
longer  beautiful.  No  toothless  crone  would  have  seemed 
so  hideously  ugly.  He  could  not  bear  to  look  at  her. 
With  the  deepest  disgust  he  turned  away,  and  re- 
mounted his  good  steed ;  and  then,  as  fast  as  the  fleet- 
footed  Bayard  could  carry  him,  he  hastened  out  of  the 
wood  of  Ardennes,  and  back  to  the  court  of  the  king. 

Scarcely  had  the  hero  of  Montalban  turned  his  horse's 
head,  when  Angelica  awoke.  She  saw  him  riding  away 
from  her,  and  she  thought  him  the  handsomest  knight 
she  had  ever  seen.  She  called  to  him  ;  but  the  sound 
of  her  voice  only  deepened  the  disgust  which  he  felt, 
and  he  rode  all  the  more  rapidly  away.  Soon  afterward 
she  was  startled  by  a  noise  on  the  other  side  of  the 
meadow.  She  heard  the  sound  of  angry  words,  and 
then  the  rattle  and  clash  of  arms,  as  if  two  knights  were 
engaged  in  deadly  combat.  Thinking  that  one  ot  them 
might  be  her  brother,  she  ran  to  that  part  of  the  glade 
whence  the  sounds  came.  There  she  saw  Roland  and 


In  the   Wood  of  Ardennes.  197 

Ferrau,  with  lances  in  rest,  in  the  very  act  of  riding 
against  each  other.  But  great  was  her  dismay  and 
horror  when  she  saw  above  the  black  armor  of  Ferrau 
the  jewelled  helmet  of  Argalia.  Well  did  she  under 
stand  the  meaning  of  it  all ;  well  did  she  know  that  her 
brother  would  never  corne  to  meet  her  in  the  old  tryst 
ing  place  in  the  wood  of  Ardennes.  Terrified  and  in 
great  distress,  she  put  her  magic  ring  again  between 
her  lips,  and  quick  as  thought  she  was  back  in  her 
father's  palace  in  the  sunrise  land  of  Cathay. 

Roland  had  overtaken  Ferrau  upon  the  very  border 
of  the  forest  meadow ;  and  he  had  at  once  charged  the 
Moor  with  cowardly  and  unknightly  behavior  in  slaying 
Argalia  while  he  slept. 

"  The  Prince  of  Cathay  was  no  Christian,"  said  he ; 
"yet  he  was  a  true  knight,  courteous  and  bold.  Turn 
now,  and  defend  thyself,  or  take  the  punishment  due  to 
a  thief  and  a  murderer  I ' 

The  two  warriors  rushed  toward  each  other  with  the 
fury  of  tigers  and  the  force  of  two  mountain  whirl- 
winds. The  lances  of  both  were  shivered  in  pieces^ 
and  so  great  was  the  shock,  that  both  reeled  in  then 
saddles.  Roland  was  the  first  to  recover  himself, 
Quickly  he  dismounted  from  his  steed,  and  drew  his 
good  sword  DurandaL 

"  Come  on,  thou  stranger  to  every  knightly  virtue !  * 
he  cried,  —  "  come  on,  and  thou  shalt  taste  the  edge  oil 
Durandal,  the  terror  of  all  wrong-doers." 


198  The  Story  of  Roland. 

But  Ferrau  had  suddenly  remembered  that  his  liege 
lord,  Marsilius  of  Spain,  was  in  need  of  his  help.  He 
turned  not  back,  nor  looked  around,  nor  seemed  to  hear 
the  taunting  challenge  which  Roland  hurled  after  him, 
He  set  spurs  to  his  night-black  steed,  and  galloped  away 
to  the  southward.  Roland  mounted  Brigliadoro,  and 
gave  chase.  But  the  Moor's  black  horse  was  the  swifter 
of  the  two,  and  he  and  his  rider  were  soon  lost  to  sight 
Then  the  hero  changed  his  course,  and  slowly  and 
thoughtfully  rode  back  toward  Paris. 


Roland's  Quest  in  the  Far  East.        199 


ADVENTURE  XV. 


ROLAND'S   QUEST  IN   THE   FAR   EAST. 

THE  spring  months  passed  away,  and  summer  opened, 
inviting  heroes  forth  to  manly  action,  and  pious  men 
to  pilgrimages.  Yet  Roland  tarried  idly  at  the  king's 
court.  Very  irksome,  though,  was  this  life  of  idleness 
and  inaction  to  our  hero ;  and  when  he  looked  upon 
the  beaming  blade  of  Durandal,  or  visited  Brigliadoro 
stamping  impatiently  in  his  stall,  he  longed  more  than 
ever  to  ride  out  again  on  errands  of  knightly  valor. 
But  Charlemagne  liked  not  to  part  even  for  a  day  with 
his  favorite  nephew.  Week  after  week,  under  one  pre- 
tence and  another,  he  persuaded  the  hero  to  stay  with 
him  at  court.  And  although  there  were  jousts  and 
tournaments  and  hunting-parties,  and  much  feasting 
and  merriment,  and  daily  lessons  in  the  school  of  good 
Alcuin,  yet  the  days  seemed  to  lag,  and  every  thing  to 
run  slow,  for  the  lack  of  more  stirring  action.  By  and 
by  the  king  noticed  the  growing  unrest  which  rilled  the 
mind  of  Roland,  and  he  said,  — 

"Dear  nephew,  this  idleness  seems  little  to  become 
one  of  thy  restless  nature.  Methinks  it  wears  upoo 
thee." 


2OO  7>fc£  Story  of  Roland. 

"  It  does,  indeed,"  answered  Roland.  "  I  should  bs 
only  too  glad  were  some  war  to  break  out,  or  were  I 
sent  on  some  errand  of  danger,  that  I  might  prove  my 
title  to  knighthood." 

"  There  is  not  much  likelihood  of  war,"  said  Charle- 
magne. "  But,  if  there  is  any  deed  of  knight-errantry 
thou  wouldst  fain  undertake,  thou  shalt  have  leave  to 
do  what  thou  wilt." 

Roland  could  not  conceal  his  pleasure. 

"  In  the  fairy  gardens  of  Falerina,  in  the  Far  East," 
said  he,  "I  am  told  that  the  arms  of  the  Trojan  Hector 
await  the  coming  of  a  hero  to  claim  them.  I  have 
already  the  sword,  the  flaming  Durandal,  and  I  would 
fain  have  the  complete  armor.  With  your  leave  I  will 
ride  forth  at  once  in  quest  of  that  fairyland;  and,  if  I 
win  not  for  myself  the  arms  of  the  godlike  hero,  I  will 
thereafter  rest  content  with  what  I  have." 

When  it  became  known  that  Roland  was  about  to 
ride  out  as  a  knight-errant,  and  when  it  was  told  what 
the  object  of  his  quest  was  to  be,  aJl  the  folk  in  the 
king's  court  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  the  undertak- 
mg.  No  one  knew  just  where  the  fairyland  of  Falerina 
was  for  there  were  no  maps  or  guide-books  in  those 
days ;  but  every  one  knew  that  there  were  great  diffi- 
culties and  dangers  to  be  met  and  overcome  before 
reaching  it  There  were  mountains  and  seas  to  be 
crossed,  and  forests  to  be  traversed,  and  monsters  to  be 
slain,  and  wild  beasts  to  be  avoided  or  killed,  and  a 
thousand  unknown  and  impossible  adventures  to  be 


Roland's  Quest  in  the  Far  East.        201 

undertaken,  before  any  one  could  hope  to  reach  that 
far-away,  cloud-covered  land.  And,  if  he  should  be  so 
fortunate  as  to  get  there,  there  were  still  the  weird 
enchantments  of  the  witches  and  the  fairies  to  be 
guarded  against,  requiring  the  knowledge  of  a  sor 
cerer,  as  well  as  the  strength  and  skill  of  a  warrior, 
But  Roland  was  not  afraid  of  dangers  and  difficulties ; 
and,  the  more  his  friends  tried  to  dissuade  him  on  this 
account,  the  more  determined  he  was  to  undertake  the 
quest.  Then  certain  slanderers  about  the  court,  among 
whom  was  Ganelon  of  Mayence,  whispered  that  it  was 
the  beautiful  face  of  Angelica,  rather  than  the  match- 
less arms  of  Hector,  which  was  luring  Roland  to  the 
Far  East ;  and  they  said  that  his  quest  would  more 
likely  be  in  the  sunrise  land  of  Cathay  than  in  the 
fairy  gardens  of  Falerina. 

To  both  the  warnings  of  his  friends  and  the  evil 
speaking  of  his  foes,  our  hero  turned  a  deaf  ear.  He 
ordered  Brigliadoro  to  be  saddled ;  he  bade  his  mother 
and  the  gentle  Alda  and  his  brother  knights  good-by ; 
and  then,  clad  in  complete  armor,  with  Durandal  at 
his  side,  he  rode  away.  For  many  days  he  travelled 
straight  toward  the  rising  sun,  veering  now  and  then 
to  the  southward.  And  he  left  behind  him  the  broad 
lands  of  France,  and  the  fair  plains  of  Lombardy,  and 
the  heaven-towering  Alps,  and  the  great  sea.  And  in 
every  village  or  country  where  he  came  he  was  welcomed 
and  kindly  entertained  as  a  Christian  knight  without 
fear  and  wittout  reproach.  And,  when  he  inquired  the 


2O2  Ibe  &tory  of  Kotanct. 

way  to  the  Fairyland  of  Falerina,  men  pointed  toward 
the  east,  and  shook  their  heads,  and  warned  him  to  give 
up  the  quest  ere  it  was  too  late.  But  he,  in  no  wise 
disheartened,  pressed  onward,  ever  the  more  intent  as 
the  dangers  and  difficulties  seemed  greater  and  nearer 

One  day  he  came  to  a  bridge  which  spanned  a  silent 
slow-flowing  river,  and  whose  farther  end  was  hidden  in 
a  dark  mist.  On  the  bridge  a  pretty  maiden  stood  to 
take  toll  of  all  that  passed  that  way.  Roland  asked  her 
the  way  to  Fairyland. 

"  It  is  not  far  from  here,"  said  she  ;  "  but  the  way  is 
beset  with  many  perils.  If  you  will  drink  this  cup  of 
water  which  I  have  dipped  from  the  river  beneath  us, 
your  eyesight  will  become  clearer,  and  you  will  be  able 
to  see  through  the  mists  which  hang  over  Fairyland  and 
hide  it  from  mortal  sight." 

But  the  maiden  spoke  of  the  Fairyland  of  Forgetful- 
ness,  and  not  of  the  gardens  of  Falerina.  Roland 
thoughtlessly  took  the  cup  which  she  offered  him,  and 
drank  the  water  which  it  held.  In  a  moment  he  forgot  all 
his  past  life,  all  his  ambitions  and  his  hopes :  he  forgot 
even  his  friends  and  himself  and  the  quest  upon  which 
he  was  riding.  He  remembered  nothing  whatever.  He 
only  knew  that  beside  him  was  a  beautiful  maiden,  and 
that  beyjnd  the  bridge  whereon  he  stood  was  a  fail 
country  full  of  pleasant  sights  and  sounds,  of  singing 
birds,  and  softly  murmuring  waterfalls,  and  gay  flowers, 
and  luscious  fruits.  Farther  away  he  saw  a  tall  castle, 
with  towers  and  turrets  pointing  to  the  sky,  and  broad 


Roland's  Quest  in  the  Far  East.        203 

battlements,  and  a  high  wall  surrounded  by  a  deep,  wide 
moat  And,  having  drunk  of  the  waters  of  Forgetful- 
ness,  he  no  longer  had  any  will  of  his  own.  He  suffered 
the  maiden  to  take  him  by  the  hand  and  to  lead  him 
into  the  halls  of  the  castle.  And  there,  with  many 
other  knights  who  had  been  entrapped  in  the  same  way, 
he  passed  days  and  weeks  of  pleasurable  forgetfuiness, 
content  with  that  which  each  moment  brought  him,  and 
having  no  remembrance  of  the  past,  and  no  thought  noi 
care  for  the  future. 

No  one  knows  how  long  Roland  would  have  staid  z 
prisoner  in  the  castle  of  Forgetfulness,  had  it  not  beer 
for  Angelica,  the  Princess  of  Cathay.  I  will  tell  yot 
how  it  happened  that  she  came  to  set  him  free. 

When  Angelica  returned  to  her  own  home,  after  the 
death  of  her  brother  Argalia,  she  found  that  a  fierce 
Tartar  chief  named  Agrican  had  long  been  waging  wai 
with  her  father,  King  Galafron,  and  had  forced  him  to 
shut  himself  up  in  the  walled  town  of  Albracca.  Week 
after  week  the  Tartars  besieged  Albracca,  striving  in 
every  way  to  pass  the  well-defended  walls.  But  Gala 
fron  and  his  folk  held  out  bravely ;  and,  while  they  kept 
thei-  foes  a  safe  distance  from  their  gates,  they  sent 
fleet  messengers  to  Sacripant,  king  of  Circassia,  pray 
ing  him  to  lend  them  some  aid.  Sacripant,  who  had 
long  courted  the  favor  of  the  Princess  Angelica,  came 
with  an  army  of  ten  thousand  men,  and  gave  battle  to 
Agrican  outside  Ox  the  city  walls.  Fierce  was  the  £ght, 
and  great  was  the  loss  of  life  on  either  side.  At  last 


2O4  The  Story  of  Roland. 

the  Circassians  cut  their  way  through  the  ranks  of  the 
beleaguering  Tartars,  and  reached  the  gates,  which  were 
opened  to  receive  them.  But  so  closely  pressed  were 
they,  chat,  ere  the  heavy  barriers  could  be  closed  again, 
a  great  part  of  the  Tartar  horde,  with  chief  Agrican  at 
their  head,  had  crowded  through  into  the  city.  Theft 
was  there  terror  and  great  distress  in  Albracca,  and 
fierce  fighting  in  every  street.  Of  the  ten  thousand 
gallant  Circassians  whom  Sacripant  had  led  to  the 
affray,  not  half  a  thousand  remained  alive.  And,  in  the 
end,  King  Galafron,  with  the  remnant  of  those  who  had 
escaped  the  storm-like  fury  of  the  Tartars,  was  obliged 
to  retire  into  the  citadel,  a  strong-built  castle  standing 
high  on  a  rock  in  the  middle  of  the  town.  But  the 
castle  was  not  very  well  supplied  with  arms,  nor  was  it 
victualled  for  a  long  siege ;  and  the  hearts  of  all  sank 
within  them  as  they  thought  of  the  day  when  starvation 
would  oblige  them  to  open  the  gates  to  their  fierce,  un- 
feeling foes.  It  was  then  that  Angelica  bethought  her 
of  her  magic  ring. 

"  Do  not  yet  give  up  all  hope,"  she  said.  "  Hold  the 
citadel  only  seven  days  longer,  and  I  will  bring  you 
help.  In  the  castle  of  Forgetfulness,  which  lies  on  the 
borders  of  Fairyland,  there  are  many  brave  knights 
imprisoned,  —  the  noblest  and  the  most  daring  in  all 
the  world.  I  will  hie  me  thither,  and  awaken  them, 
and  call  them  to  our  aid." 

Then  she  put  the  magic  ring  between  her  lips,  and 
Bew  unseen  over  the  heads  of  the  Tartar  horde,  and 


Roland's  Quest  in  the  Far  East.        205 

over  the  pleasant  valleys  and  the  wooded  hills  of  Cathay, 
and  stopped  not  until  she  came  to  the  land  of  the  fairies 
and  the  bridge  which  spans  the  River  of  Forgetfulness, 
The  maiden  who  stood  there  to  take  the  toll  offered  her 
the  cup  of  water ;  but  she  dashed  it  to  the  ground,  and 
went  boldly  onward  to  the  castle.  She  passed  through 
the  wide-open  gates  unchallenged ;  for,  in  the  dwelling 
where  Forgetfulness  reigns,  there  is  no  need  of  warder 
or  of  watchman.  She  entered  the  great  banquet  hallf 
where  the  guests  and  prisoners  were  at  meat.  There 
at  the  table  sat  Roland,  and  Reinold  of  Montalban,  and 
many  another  fearless  knight,  eating  and  drinking  and 
making  merry,  and  not  once  thinking  of  their  knightly 
vows,  or  caring  to  know  each  other.  She  stood  in  the 
doorway,  her  book  of  enchantments  in  one  hand,  and  a 
trumpet  in  the  other.  She  sang  a  song  sweeter  than 
a  siren's  voice,  and  so  loud  and  clear  that  it  was  echoed 
in  every  nook  and  chamber  of  the  sleepy  old  castle. 
The  knights,  intent  only  on  the  pleasure  of  the  passing 
moment,  scarcely  raised  their  eyes  to  look  at  her.  They 
kept  on  feasting  and  laughing,  and  merrily  joking,  as 
men  are  wont  to  do  who  never  think  of  the  morrow. 
Then  she  raised  the  bugle-trumpet  to  her  lips,  and  blew 
a  shrill,  deep  battle  call  At  the  first  blast  the  knights 
sprang  to  their  feet,  and  gazed  about  in  mingled  aston- 
ishment and  shame.  At  the  second,  all  the  memories 
of  the  past,  all  their  hopes,  all  their  ambition,  came  into 
their  minds  again.  With  one  accord  they  rushed  in 
hot  haste  from  the  banquet  table ;  they  hastened  to  the 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


armory  and  to  the  stables.  Never  before  had  there 
been  in  that  place  such  a  buckling-on  of  armor,  such  a 
mounting  of  war  steeds,  such  looks  and  words  of  brave 
determination  and  hope.  Old  Oblivion,  the  lord  of  the 
castle,  who  was  alike  deaf  to  every  call  of  duty,  and 
blind  to  every  noble  impulse,  shut  himself  up  in  the 
lowest  depths  of  his  dungeon  tower,  fearful  lest  the 
stirring  sounds  of  Angelica's  bugle  might  arouse  in 
him  some  slumbering  thoughts  of  the  great  world  out- 
side. 

It  was  not  long  until  the  awakened  knights  were  fully 
equipped  with  their  arms  and  armor,  and  mounted  on 
their  war  steeds,  ready  to  follow  Angelica  wherever  she 
might  lead,  or  to  undertake  any  adventure  she  might 
direct.  And  they  rode  back  over  the  now  dry  River  of 
Forgetfulness,  and  out  of  the  world  of  fairyland  and 
enchantments,  into  the  nobler  world  of  reality,  of  action, 
and  of  worthy  effort. 

On  the  third  day  they  reached  the  country  of  Cathay, 
and  saw  the  ruin  and  the  ravages  that  the  fierce  Tartars 
had  made.  The  harvests  had  been  overrun,  the  vine- 
yards had  been  trampled  down,  the  villages  had  been 
burned,  and,  where  there  had  been  plenty  and  happi 
ness,  now  naught  was  seen  but  smoking  heaps  and  a 
desolate  desert-waste.  The  country  folk  of  Cathay  had 
hidden  themselves  from  their  pitiless  foes  in  the  moun- 
tain fastnesses  and  in  the  thick  woods.  But,  when  they 
heard  that  many  of  the  most  noted  warriors  of  the  Far 
West  were  riding  to  the  succor  of  their  king  at  Albrac 


Roland's  Quest  in  the  Far  East.        207 

ca,  they  came  out  of  their  hiding  places,  and  ha^.ed 
them  as  the  saviors  of  their  country.  And  every  day, 
as  Roland  and  his  comrades  drew  nearer  to  the  be- 
leaguered city,  great  numbers  of  Cathayan  warriors 
who  had  escaped  from  the  Tartars,  and  who  had  been 
scattered  abroad  through  the  land,  came  and  joined 
their  standard.  And  when.,  at  last,  the  tall  towers  of 
Albracca  rose  before  them,  Roland  found  himself  at 
the  head  of  an  army  of  forty  thousand  fighting  men 
Great  was  the  astonishment  and  dismay  of  the  Tartars 
when  this  host  burst  unexpectedly  upon  them.  Fearfu) 
indeed  was  the  din  of  battle  that  ensued.  The  belea- 
guered Galafron,  at  the  head  of  a  handful  of  troops, 
sallied  out  from  the  citadel,  and  joined  the  army  of  res- 
cuers. And,  always  in  the  thickest  of  that  fearful  fight, 
there  Roland  was  seen,  the  flash  of  his  angry  eye  and 
the  glitter  of  the  wondrous  sword  Durandal  carrying 
terror  into  the  ranks  of  the  panic-stricken  Tartars. 

In  vain  did  Chief  Agrican  strive  to  rally  his  men. 
All  was  fear  and  confusion  ;  and  most  of  his  followers 
had  at  the  first  onset  taken  to  shameful  flight,  followed 
by  the  victorious  Cathayans,  He  saw,  that  so  long  as 
his  foes  were  cheered  on  by  Roland,  who  was  a  verita 
ble  host  within  himself,  there  was  little  hope  for  the 
Tartars,  and  he  formed  a  cunning  plan  to  draw  him 
away  from  the  field.  He  placed  his  lance  in  rest,  and 
rode  forward,  as  if  he  would  make  an  attack  upon 
Roland  Then  suddenly,  as  though  in  fright,  he  fled. 
Roland  followed  in  swift  pursuit.  The  Tartar  chief,  as 


so8  The  Story  of  Roland. 

if  he  thought  his  life  in  deadly  peril,  galloped  away  as 
fast  as  his  steed  would  carry  him,  and  paused  not  until 
he  reached  an  open  glade  in  a  forest,  far  beyond  the 
sound  of  the  battle's  strife.  Here  he  dismounted,  te 
drink  of  the  water  which  gurgled  up  clear  and  pure  in 
a  marble  fountain  which  King  Galafron  had  built  and 
made  sacred  to  the  nymphs  of  the  wood.  Scarcely 
had  he  wet  his  lips,  when  Roland  rode  up  close  behind 
him. 

"  Ah,  sir  chief  I '  cried  he,  "  how  is  it  that  the  brave 
flee  thus  from  peril  ? ' 

The  Tartar  leaped  quickly  into  his  saddle,  and  faced 
his  enemy. 

"  Sir  knight,  whoever  you  may  be,"  said  he,  "  I  am 
fain  to  look  upon  you  as  the  bravest  warrior  I  have  ever 
met.  I  have  seen  your  daring ;  and,  foe  though  you  be, 
I  cannot  help  admiring  you.  For  your  own  sake  I 
would  rather  not  touch  you,  for  it  would  grieve  me 
much  to  see  the  death  of  so  brave  a  man.  Ride,  there- 
fore, back  to  your  fellows,  and  goad  me  not  to  your 
destruction." 

Roland  was  pleased  with  this  gallant  speech  of  the 
Pagan,  and  he  answered  mildly,  "Pity  it  is  that  a 
warrior  so  courteous  as  thou,  and  withal  so  brave, 
should  be  an  unbeliever.  Let  me  urge  thee  to  turn 
Christian,  and  to  go  back  in  quietness  to  thv  own  land. 
By  doing  so,  thou  mayst  save  both  thy  body  and  thy 
soul." 

The  Tartar's  cheek  grew  white  with  rage.     "  Even 


Roland 's  Quest  in  the  Far  East.        209 

though  thou  wert  Roland  of  France,  or  any  other  knight 
as  valiant,  thou  shouldst  rue  those  taunting  words  \ 
Draw  now  thy  sword,  and  save  thyself  if  thou  canst ! ' 

Fiercely,  then,  did  the  two  knights  join  in  fight,  and 
the  woods  around  them  rang  with  the  clashing  of  their 
good  blades.  But  so  well  were  they  matched,  and  so 
skilfully  was  every  thrust  parried,  that  neither  warrior 
was  able  to  touch  the  other,  or  to  gain  aught  of  advan- 
tage over  him.  By  and  by  the  sun  went  down,  and 
the  stars  came  out,  and  the  moon  arose ;  and  still  the 
fight  seemed  no  whit  nearer  its  end.  The  Tartar  was 
the  first  to  ask  a  truce  until  morning.  They  tied  their 
horses  to  the  overhanging  branches  of  an  elm,  and  lay 
down  upon  the  grass  to  rest,  —  Roland  near  the  foun- 
tain, and  Agrican  by  the  trunk  of  a  pine.  The  sky 
was  clear  and  the  stars  shone  bright,  and  the  two 
knights  talked  with  each  other  as  two  friends  would 
talk.  Roland  pointed  to  the  stars  above  them,  and  in 
earnest  tones  spoke  of  the  goodness  and  wisdom  and 
power  of  Him  who  had  made  them.  The  Tartar  was 
not  used  to  speeches  of  this  kind,  nor  did  he  relish  the 
way  in  which  Roland  sought  to  tell  him  of  matters 
belonging  to  the  Christian  faith.  At  last,  growing 
weary,  and  filled  with  disgust,  he  said,  — 

"  You  may  be  a  very  brave  knight,  but  you  are  cer- 
tainly very  ill  bred  to  make  me  listen  to  things  which 
are  sc  distasteful  to  me.  If  you  will  not  let  me  sleep, 
you  might  at  least  talk  of  fair  ladies,  and  daring  deeds, 
and  feats  of  arms,  —  things  much  better  fitted  for  the 


2io  The  Story  of  Roland. 


understanding  of  a  knight.  But  tell  me,  are  you  not 
that  Roland  of  France  whose  name  and  deeds  are  ic 
every  one's  mouth  ? ' 

"  I  am  Roland  of  France,"  was  the  answer. 

"  And  why  are  you  here,  so  far  from  home,  fighting 
for  one  who  is  no  more  a  Christian  than  I  ? '  asked 
Agrican. 

"  I  am  fighting  for  the  rights  of  the  Princess  Angeli- 
ca," answered  Roland,  "  Every  Christian  knight  has 
a  liege  lady  whom  he  is  bound  at  all  times  to  defend." 

The  Tartar  arose,  leaped  upon  his  horse,  and  drew  his 
sword.  Roland,  much  against  his  will,  again  mounted 
Brigliadoro,  and  made  ready  to  defend  himself.  Old 
stories  tell  us,  that  the  two  warriors  fought  most  furi- 
ously until  the  sun  arose,  and  that  Roland's  shield  was 
cut  in  twain,  and  his  armor  battered  and  scarred,  and 
every  joint  in  his  body  shaken  and  bruised,  so  terri 
ble  was  the  onset  of  the  enraged  Agrican.  And  they 
say  that  at  last,  in  sheer  desperation,  and  as  his  only 
hope,  Roland  gave  his  foe  a  stroke  with  the  sword 
Durandal,  that  laid  him  low  at  his  feet.  Quickly  then 
he  dismounted  from  Brigliadoro.  Tears  of  true,  heart- 
felt sorrow,  streamed  from  his  eyes  as  he  raised  the 
dying  chief  tenderly  in  his  arms,  and  laid  him  on  the 
marble  rim  of  the  fountain. 

"  Pagan  and  foe,  though  thou  wert,"  murmured  Ro 
land,  "  yet  thou  wert  a  man,  and  a  most  worthy  knight ! ' 

And  there  on  the  rim  of  the  fountain  he  left  him, 
clad  in  his  full  suit  of  armor,  with  his  sword  in  hiss 
hand,  and  his  kingly  crown  on  his  head. 


THE  COMBAT  AT  MIDNIGHT. 


How  Reinold  fared  to   Cathay.          2 1  \ 


ADVENTURE    XVL 


HO'V   REINOLD   FARED  TO   CATHAY. 

You  *re  curious  to  know  how  it  happened  that  Rei« 
nold  of  Montalban  had  been  entrapped  in  the  castle  of 
Forgetfalness  to  be  liberated  just  in  time  to  carry  aid 
to  the  distressed  Albraccans  ?  I  will  tell  you. 

When  the  Princess  Angelica  returned  to  her  father's 
dwelling,  after  that  fateful  day  in  the  wood  of  Ardennes, 
she  could  not  forget  the  noble  form  and  bearing  of  the 
hero  of  Montalban,  as  he  had  appeared  to  her  when  she 
last  saw  him  by  the  fountain  of  Merlin.  So  she  ordered 
that  Malagis  the  wizard  should  be  freed  from  his  dun- 
geon beneath  the  sea,  and  brought  into  her  presence. 
The  little  old  man,  very  glad  to  see  the  light  of  day 
once  more,  bowed  reverently  to  the  princess,  and  hum 
bly  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

"  K  no  west  thou  the  French  knight  who  is  called 
Remold  of  Montalban  ? "  asked  she. 

"  I  do,  most  worthy  lady,"  was  the  wizard's  answer. 
"  He  is  my  cousin  and  my  dearest  friend." 

"Listen,  then,"  said  the  princess.  "If  thou  wilt 
promise  to  bring  this  noble  knight,  by  fair  means  o? 


212  The  Story  of  Roland. 

by  foul,  to  Cathay,  thou  shalt  have  thy  freedom, 
book,  and  thy  wizard's  ring." 

The  old  man  bowed  low,  and  promised.  He  would 
have  hazarded  his  soul  for  those  things.  He  took  his 
book  and  his  ring,  and  without  a  day's  delay  hastened 
to  return  to  France. 

"  Where  hast  thou  been,  wise  cousin  ? '  asked  Rei- 
nold, as  the  dwarf  bowed  himself  into  his  chamber. 

"  Only  across  the  sea,"  was  the  answer. 

"And  what  didst  thou  find  across  the  sea?' 

"  A  very  great  treasure,  but  it  is  guarded  by  a 
dragon  so  fierce  and  wakeful  that  I  dared  not  go  near 
it.  Men  say  that  this  treasure  has  lain  there  for  ages, 
waiting  the  coming  of  a  hero  brave  enough  to  face  the 
dragon,  and  strong  enough  to  slay  him.  Methought  that 
my  cousin,  Reinold  of  Montalban,  might  be  that  hero." 

Very  cunning  were  the  wizard's  words,  and  it  was 
not  hard  for  him  to  persuade  Reinold  to  go  in  quest  of 
the  treasure.  A  ship  with  sails  all  set,  impatient  for 
the  wind,  awaited  the  knight  as  he  rode  down  to  the 
seashore.  He  stepped  aboard,  leading  the  horse  Bay- 
ard behind  him.  A  light  breeze  sprang  up :  the  sails 
filled,  and  the  ship  sped  gayly  on  its  way  across  the  sea. 
There  was  no  one  on  board  save  Reinold  and  his  steea ; 
but  the  wizard  had  assured  him  that  the  ship  needed 
neither  pilot  nor  oarsman,  and  that  it  would  sail  straight 
to  the  shore  where  the  treasure  lay  under  the  watch- 
ful eyes  of  the  dragon.  Two  days  the  little  vessel  sped 
over  the  waves  like  a  thing  of  life ;  nor  did  Reinold 


How  Reinold  fared  to   Cathay.          213 

once  doubt  that  the  end  of  the  voyage  would  be  as  the 
wizard  had  said.  On  the  third  day  he  came  to  a  long, 
low  shore  and  a  goodly  island,  which  seemed  to  be  one 
large  garden  adorned  and  beautified  with  -every  thing 
that  is  pleasant  to  the  sight.  Close  by  *he  shore  was  a 
wondrous  castle,  the  fairest  that  Reinold  had  ever  seen, 
It  was  built  of  marble  so  white  and  clear  that  the  walls 
seemed  like  great  mirrors  in  which  were  painted  the 
garden,  the  sea,  and  the  sky.  As  the  boat  touched 
the  shore,  three  ladies,  handsome  as  fairies,  came  out 
of  the  castle,  and  greeted  the  knight. 

"  Welcome,  brave  hero  ! '  said  they.  "  Welcome  to 
Joyous  Castle !  Welcome  in  the  name  of  our  queen, 
Angelica  of  Cathay  ! ' 

Reinold  heard  the  name  of  the  fair  princess  with 
loathing.  He  remembered  her  only  as  she  had  seemed 
to  him  after  he  had  drunk  from  the  mystic  waters  of 
Merlin's  fountain.  He  thought  of  an  old  witch,  hag- 
gard and  toothless  and  crippled,  blear-eyed  and  gray, 
mumbling  her  weird  spells,  and  muttering  curses. 
Such  to  him  was  Angelica  of  Cathay.  How  he  hated 
and  loathed  her !  He  turned  him  about  in  the  ship, 
and  would  not  look  at  the  fairy  palace  and  the  gardens, 
which  were  said  to  be  hers.  The  breeze  again  filled  the 
sails,  and  the  little  bark  left  the  shore,  and  the  marble 
towers  of  Joyous  Castle  were  soon  out  of  sight.  And  a 
great  storm  arose  on  the  sea,  and  the  waves  ran  moun- 
tain high,  and  the  ship  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  winds, 
A,  dark  night  came  on,  and  Reinold  was  in  fearful  p^ril 


214  The  Story  of  Roland. 

but  he  stood  calmly  at  the  helm,  and  cared  not  at  all 
for  the  danger.  In  the  morning  the  vessel  ran  upon 
a  wild,  rock-bound  shore,  and  was  dashed  in  pieces  by 
the  waves;  but  the  hero  and  his  horse  escaped  wfsb 
great  difficulty  by  swimming  to  the  land. 

The  country  in  which  Remold  now  found  himseli 
was  covered  with  a  dark  forest,  where  the  owls  hooted 
dismally,  and  the  wolves  howled,  and  the  goblins  of  the 
wood  held  high  carnival.  As  he  made  his  way  through 
the  dense  underbrush,  and  among  the  dead  and  decay- 
ing trees,  he  espied  a  low-built,  gloomy  castle  standing 
in  the  middle  of  a  marsh.  He  rode  up  to  the  gate,  and 
called  out  loudly  to  the  warder  to  open  and  let  him  in. 
For  a  time  there  was  no  answer ;  and,  indeed,  no  sign 
or  sound  of  life  did  he  hear.  Then,  suddenly,  there 
was  a  rattling  of  chains  and  a  ringing  of  iron  bars ; 
and  the  gate  flew  open,  and  four  giants  rushed  out 
upon  the  knight  Before  he  could  draw  his  sword,  or 
in  the  least  defend  himself,  he  was  dragged  from  his 
horse,  and  bound  with  iron  chains,  and  carried  into  the 
courtyard. 

"  Why  this  rudeness  to  a  stranger  and  a  knight  ? "  he 
aske*!,  as  soon  as  he  was  given  time  to  speak. 

The  giants  answered  him  not  a  word,  but  left  him 
lying  helpless  and  alone  on  the  stone  floor.  After  a 
while,  an  old  woman  came  in  to  jeer  and  laugh  at  his 
mishaps. 

"A  fine  morsel  thou  wilt  be  for  the  dragon,"  said  she, 
M  It  is  not  often  that  he  has  a  real  Christian  knight  fa? 


How  Reinold  fared  to   Cathay.          215 

his  dinner,  and  thou  wilt  indeed  make  him  gentle  and 
gladsome," 

Reinold  asked  the  woman  what  she  meant,  and  was 
told  that  on  the  morrow  he  was  to  be  given  to  a  terrible 
dragon  who  had  overrun  and  ravaged  all  that  country^ 
and  who  could  be  appeased  only  by  human  blood. 

"  I  fear  him  not,"  said  the  knight,  "  if  they  will  but 
unbind  me,  and  give  me  my  good  Flamberge." 

All  night  long  Reinold  lay  bound  in  the  cold  and  deso- 
late courtyard,  while  Bayard  galloped  hither  and  thither 
in  the  forest,  seeking  vainly  for  his  master.  Early 
in  the  morning  the  four  giants  came  again ;  and,  after 
unbinding  Reinold,  they  threw  him,  with  his  arms  and 
armor,  into  a  deep-walled  pit  where  the  dragon  was  wont 
to  come  for  his  daily  meals.  The  knight,  glad  to  find 
that  his  limbs  were  free,  and  that  his  good  sword  Flam- 
berge was  in  his  hand,  waited  fearlessly  for  the  coming 
of  the  monster.  Not  long,  however,  had  he  to  wait 
The  horrid  beast,  his  teeth  gnashing  with  rage,  and  his 
nostrils  flaming  with  poisonous  fumes,  rushed  into  the 
area,  expecting  to  find,  as  usual,  an  easy  prey.  But 
Remold  attacked  him  bravely  with  his  good  sword,  and 
siade  him  pause  in  his  hasty  onset.  Fierce  and  terrible 
was  the  fight  that  followed.  The  sharp  claws  oi  the 
beast  tore  off  the  knight's  armor  piece  by  piece.  His 
head  was  laid  bare ;  his  hauberk  and  breastplate  were 
broken ;  the  strokes  of  his  sword  fell  harmless  on  the 
iron  scales  which  protected  the  creature's  sides.  Hard 
would  it  have  gone  with  the  knight,  had  not  good  for 


2i6  The  Story  of  Roland. 

tune  favored  him.  Six  feet  above  his  head  a  beam  pro- 
jected into  the  pit.  He  felt  his  strength  failing  him ; 
the  great  jaws  of  the  beast  were  about  to  close  upon 
him.  He  called  up  all  his  energy,  and  with  one  mighty 
effort  leaped  upon  the  beam.  He  was  safe.  The 
dragon  raged  and  fumed  and  threatened,  but  could  not 
reach  him.  Yet  how,  after  all,  would  the  good  knight 
escape  ?  The  walls  rose,  high  arid  smooth,  still  many 
feet  above  him.  There  was  no  way  to  get  out  of  the 
pit,  save  by  passing  the  dread  monster  below. 

While  the  knight  sat  half-despairing  on  the  friendly 
beam,  he  heard  a  whirring  of  wings  above  him ;  and  a 
fairy,  which  he  at  first  mistook  tor  a  bird,  alighted  by 
his  side. 

"Most  worthy  knight,"  said  she,  "fortune  comes 
always  to  the  help  of  the  brave.  Now  here  are  a  ball 
of  wax  and  a  strong  net,  which  you  may  use  as  your 
good  sense  may  direct.  But  you  must  never  forget  that 
this  aid  has  been  sent  you  by  the  Princess  Angelica  of 
Cathay." 

With  these  words  the  fairy  flew  away,  and  was  seen 
no  more.  But  Reinold  wondered  whether  she  were  not 
really  the  princess  herself  in  disguise.  It  was  easy  for 
him  to  understand  what  to  do  with  the  presents  she  had 
brought.  He  threw  the  cake  of  wax  to  the  raging 
dragon  below.  Eagerly  the  beast  seized  it  between  his 
jaws,  and,  lo !  as  Reinold  had  foreseen,  his  teeth  were 
glued  fast  together.  Then,  as  the  creature  madly 
sought  to  remove  the  wax  with  his  claws,  it  was  eas$ 


IN   THE  DRAGON'S   DEN. 


How  Reinold  fared  to   Cathay.          217 

for  the  knight  to  cast  the  net  over  him,  and  draw  it 
tightly  about  his  limbs  and  body.  Helpless  now,  the 
great  beast  rolled  upon  the  ground,  an  easy  victim  to 
Reinold's  trenchant  blade. 

It  was  no  hard  matter  for  Reinold  to  find  his  way  cut 
of  the  pit,  and  into  the  wood  again.  There  the  good 
horse  Bayard  waited  for  him,  and  greeted  his  coming 
with  a  shrill  neigh  of  pleasure,  He  looked  around  for 
the  gloomy  castle  where  he  had  spent  so  many  misera- 
ble hours,  but  it  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  He  rubbed 
his  eyes,  and  fancied,  that,  after  all,  he  might  have  been 
only  dreaming ;  for  his  armor  was  whole  as  ever,  and 
his  good  blade  Flamberge  was  clear  and  bright,  and  no 
whit  tarnished  with  foul  dragon's  blood.  He  mounted 
his  steed,  and  rode  slowly  and  thoughtfully  out  of  the 
forest.  But,  just  beyond,  he  came  to  the  River  of  For- 
getfulness  and  the  bridge  which  spans  it ;  and  there, 
like  Roland,  he  drank  of  the  cup  which  the  maiden 
offered  him,  and  was  led  helplessly  away  to  the  care- 
forgetting  castle  of  Old  Oblivioa. 


2i8  The  Story  of  Roland. 


ADVENTURE  XVII. 


IN   THE   GARDENS   OF   FALERINA. 

HAVING  defeated  the  Tartars  before  Albracca,  and 
driven  them,  as  they  supposed,  forever  from  Cathay, 
the  French  knights  began  to  bethink  them  again  of 
their  own  country,  and  of  the  duties  which  they  owed 
to  their  liege  lord,  King  Charlemagne.  Reinold,  burn- 
ing with  anger  and  shame  because  of  the  deception 
which  had  brought  him  hither,  turned  away  at  once, 
and,  deaf  to  every  entreaty  of  the  grateful  Cathay ans, 
hastened  his  journey  back  to  France.  But  Roland 
was  not  yet  willing  to  give  up  the  adventure  which 
he  had  undertaken ;  and  he  resolved  to  make  one  fur- 
ther trial  to  find  the  gardens  of  Falerina,  and  to  win 
the  arms  of  the  godlike  Hector  of  Troy.  So  he  bade 
farewell  to  Angelica  and  to  her  father,  King  Gaiafronj 
and  set  out  on  his  quest  for  the  land  of  the  fairies  ; 
and  the  grateful  people  of  Albracca  showered  blessings 
upon  his  head  as  he  passed  out  of  their  gates.  And 
many  of  the  noblest  lords  and  ladies  of  the  realm  rode 
with  him  to  the  utmost  bounds  of  their  kingdom,  where 
they  parted  from  him  with  many  heartfelt  thanks  and 
many  a  tearful  godspeed. 


In  the  Gardens  of  Fatenna.  219 

"  He  is  a  Christian,"  said  they  as  they  rode  back  to 
their  homes,  "  and  yet  he  is  the  noblest  of  men/' 

And  Roland  rode  alone  through  many  strange  lands 
inhabited  by  strange  Pagan  people,  who  looked  upon 
him  with  wonderment  as  he  passed.  And  so  noble  was 
his  countenance,  so  proud  was  his  form,  and  so  brilliant 
was  the  armor  in  which  he  was  clad,  that  the  ignorant 
folk  often  mistook  him  for  a  god ;  but  he  pitied  their 
lack  of  knowledge  and  their  error,  and  told  them  what 
little  he  knew  of  Christ  and  of  the  holy  saints.  And 
when  he  asked  them  to  show  him  the  way  to  Fairyland, 
they  could  only  shake  their  heads,  and  point  toward 
the  setting  sun. 

One  day,  after  having  crossed  a  barren  hill  country, 
where  not  any  thing  was  to  be  seen  save  huge  bowlders 
and  lava-beds  and  yawning  chasms,  he  came  into  a 
wood  so  dark  and  dank  and  lonesome,  that  he  felt  that 
this  indeed  must  be  the  borderland  between  the  world 
of  reality  and  the  world  of  the  fairies.  Owls  hooted 
in  the  dead  treetops ;  gray  wolves  howled  in  the 
thickets ;  bats  and  vampires  flew  through  the  air ;  hid- 
eous creatures  skulked  among  the  trees.  Had  such  a 
thing  as  fear  known  lodgement  in  Roland's  breast,  he 
would  have  turned  back,  and  given  up  forever  his  quest 
for  Fairyland.  But  by  and  by  the  wood  became  less 
dense,  the  trees  and  grass  grew  as  in  a  park,  and  the 
sun,  which  had  been  hidden  behind  a  cloud,  now  shone 
brightly  through  the  leaves.  Birds  flitted  and  sang 
among  the  branches  ;  and  the  lonesomeness  and  borr-om 
of  the  deeper  forest  gave  place  to  light  and  hope 


22O  The  Story  of  Roland. 


As  Roland  rode  leisurely  along  through  this  wood, 
he  was  suddenly  aroused  by  hearing  cries,  as  of  some 
one  in  distress.  Looking  around,  he  saw  that  the}1 
were  uttered  by  a  fair  lady,  bound  hand  and  foot  to  a 
tree,  and  guarded  by  an  armed  knight. 

"Flow,  now!"  cried  Roland,  riding  nearer.  "What 
is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  How  dare  you,  who  seem  to  be 
a  knight,  thus  maltreat  the  helpless  and  the  beautiful  ? " 

The  knight  explained  that  the  lady  whom  he  held  as 
his  prisoner  was  dishonest,  untruthful,  and  treacherous 
to  her  best  friends,  and  that  she  was  only  being  pun- 
ished for  her  misdemeanors  as  she  deserved. 

"  Her  very  name  is  Deceit,"  he  said ;  "  and,  if  she 
were  once  liberated,  there  would  be  no  end  to  the  mis- 
chief she  would  cause." 

But  the  lady,  tears  streaming  from  her  eyes,  denied 
these  charges,  and  begged  Roland  to  set  her  free.  And 
oar  hero,  whose  ears  were  always  open  to  the  pleadings 
of  those  in  distress,  without  further  parley  placed  his 
lance  in  rest,  and  challenged  the  knight  to  a  trial  of 
arms. 

"If  after  what  I  have  told  you,"  said  the  knight, 
"you  wish  to  befriend  such  a  creature  as  she,  I  have 
not  a  word  further  to  say."  And,  with  a  motion  of  dis- 
gust, he  turned,  and  rode  quickly  away. 

Roland  very  gallantly  released  the  lady  from  the 
cords  which  bound  her ;  and,  as  it  was  still  a  long  way 
out.  of  the  wood,  he  helped  her  to  a  seat  behind  hirn^ 
and  together  the  two  rode  onward  toward  the  west 


In  the  Gardens  of  Falerina.  221 

The  lady  told  him  that  they  were  now  entering  the 
enchanted  regions  of  Fairyland,  and  that  he  must  be 
very  cautious  in  whatever  he  undertook  to  do.  As  she 
was  talking  they  reached  the  edge  of  the  wood,  where 
they  met  another  young  lady,  a  beautiful  damsel,  riding 
on  a  white  palfrey  gayly  attired  in  trappings  of  crimson 
velvet,  with  silver  bells  hanging  from  the  reins. 

"Ah,  sir  knight!"  said  she,  courtesying  very  hum- 
bly, "it  is  indeed  lucky  that  I  met  you  on  this  spot. 
Had  you  gone  ten  yards  farther,  you  would  have  been 
in  plain  sight  of  the  gardens  of  Falerina,  and  you  would 
have  been  slain  by  the  watchful  dragon  who  sits  before 
the  gate.  If  you  would  succeed  in  your  venture,  listen 
to  me.  Stay  where  you  are  until  morning :  stir  not  a 
foot  farther,  or  you  will  be  lost.  Just  at  sunrise  every 
day,  the  gates  are  thrown  wide  open  for  a  time ;  and 
then,  and  only  then,  if  you  are  wise,  you  can  enter  the 
fairy  gardens.  But  beware  of  the  dragon  !  " 

Then  she  gave  him  a  little  book  in  which  was  a  map 
of  the  enchanted  garden  and  a  picture  of  Falerina's 
palace,  and  directions  how  to  reach  it,  and  how  to  enter 
it  And  she  told  Roland  that  the  fairy  queen  had  been 
A  long  time  shut  up  in  one  of  the  chambers  of  her 
palace,  trying  to  forge  a  magic  sword  that  should  be 
proof  against  all  kinds  of  witchery,  and  sharp  enough 
to  slay  even  those  whose  lives  were  protected  by  the 
unseen  powers. 

"  For,"  said  the  damsel,  "  she  has  read  in  the  book  of 
Fate  that  a  hero  will  come  out  of  the  West,  and  that  ho 


222  The  Story  of  Roland. 

will  trample  down  her  fair  garden,  and  take  from  her 
all  her  witch  power." 

"  And  is  the  sword  yet  finished  ? "  asked  Roland. 

"  I  think  it  is,"  answered  the  damsel.  "  And,  if  you 
ean  once  seize  upon  it,  you  will  be  safe  from  all  the 
magic  snares  that  are  set  for  you.  Yet  many  men  have 
tried  to  enter  these  wonderful  gardens,  and  every  one 
has  failed." 

While  they  were  yet  talking,  the  sun  had  gone  down  ; 
and  Roland,  thinking  it  better  to  take  the  advice  of  the 
damsel,  and  not  attempt  to  go  farther  that  night,  dis- 
mounted from  Brigliadoro,  and  lay  down  under  the 
friendly  shelter  of  a  cedar  tree  to  rest.  He  had  no 
sooner  fallen  asleep  than  the  woman  whom  he  had 
rescued  in  the  forest,  and  who  was  really  as  false- 
hearted and  base  as  the  strange  knight  had  represented 
her  to  be,  mounted  his  war  steed,  and  rode  away,  carry- 
ing the  sword  Durandal  with  her. 

When  Roland  awoke  in  the  morning,  and  saw  how  he 
had  been  deceived  and  robbed,  he  was  both  angered 
and  disheartened.  He  felt  that  the  dangerous  adven- 
ture which  he  had  undertaken  might,  after  all,  prove  to 
be  a  failure.  Yet  his  knightly  vows  would  not  allow 
him  to  give  up  a  quest  which  he  had  once  begun,  and 
he  resolved  to  go  forward  as  he  had  at  first  intended. 
The  sky  began  to  redden  in  the  east :  the  sun  would 
soon  rise,  and  the  gates  of  the  garden  would  be  thrown 
open.  If  he  would  enter  those  enchanted  grounds,  if 
he  would  prove  himself  worthy  to  wear  the  armor  oJ 


In  the   Gardens  of  Falerina.  223 

the  godlike  Hector,  he  must  be  ready  to  act  without 
delay.  He  tore  off  the  stout  branch  of  an  elm  to  serve 
him  instead  of  a  sword,  and  went  boldly  onward  in  the 
way  which  the  damsel  on  the  palfrey  had  pointed  out, 
A  very  few  steps  brought  him  to  the  top  of  the  hill 
whence  he  could  look  down  into  the  valley  beyond. 
There  a  wonderful  sight  met  his  view.  Not  half  a 
league  away  was  the  entrance  to  the  long-sough  t-foi 
gardens,  closed  now  by  strong  iron  gates  hanging 
between  columns  of  brass.  In  front  of  the  gates  the 
sleepless  dragon  paced  to  and  fro,  while  high  above  them 
soared  a  mountain  eagle.  The  wall  was  built  of  white 
marble,  and  was  very  high ;  but  Roland,  from  his  place 
on  the  hill,  could  see  the  trees  and  the  fountains  and 
the  silvery  lake  beyond,  and  farther  away  he  could 
discern  the  glass  towers  and  turrets  of  Falerina's  castle, 
shining  like  silver  in  the  early  morning  light. 

Roland  held  the  green  elm  branch  before  him  so  as 
to  hide  himself  from  the  ever-watchful  eyes  of  the 
dragon,  and  went  slowly  forward  toward  the  gates. 
The  sun,  now  beginning  to  rise,  gilded  the  treetops  and 
the  far-off  mountain  crags  and  the  tall  turrets  of  the 
fairy  castle,  with  a  golden  light.  The  watchman  on  the 
tower  blew  a  long,  silvery  call  upon  his  bugle-horn,  which 
was  echoed  and  re-echoed  from  hill  to  valley,  and  from 
river  to  lake,  until  it  was  heard  all  over  that  Fairyland. 

"  Awake,  awake !'  he  cried  "The  daystar  comes; 
the  king  of  life  blesses  us  again.  Open  wide  the  gates 
and  let  floods  of  light  pour  in  upon  us ! " 


224  The  Story  of  Roland. 

The  great  iron  gates  swung  round  on  their  hinges :  a 
passage-way  was  opened,  wide  enough  for  a  score  of 
knights  to  ride  through  abreast ;  and  from  the  fairy 
gardens  within  there  came  the  sound  of  music  sweeter 
than  any  Roland  had  ever  before  heard.  But  he  had 
no  time  to  listen  to  these  enchanting  sounds ;  for  he 
knew  that  the  gates  would  soon  close,  and  that  the 
present  golden  opportunity  would  never  return.  The 
dragon  stood  now  directly  in  the  gateway,  its  eyes  flash 
ing  fire,  its  nostrils  smoking  with  sulphur  fumes,  its 
hooked  claws  digging  into  the  soft  earth,  its  clammy 
wings  beating  the  air.  To  a  man  of  less  heroic  mettle 
than  Roland  the  sight  of  the  beast  would  have  caused 
unspeakable  terror.  But  Roland  faltered  not.  He 
strode  straight  onward,  holding  his  shield  before  his 
face,  that  he  might  not  breathe  the  poisonous  breath  of 
the  monster.  In  his  right  hand  he  held  the  gnarly  elm 
branch,  which  he  had  hastily  stripped  of  its  green 
leaves.  Very  near  he  drew  to  the  hideous  beast;  he 
felt  its  hot  breath;  its  fangs  were  almost  upon  him. 
He  leaped  forward.  With  a  quick  movement  he  thrust 
the  branching  boughs  between  the  gaping  jaws  of  the 
creature  with  such  force  that  they  stuck  fast.  The 
dragon  stopped.  Its  mouth  was  propped  wide  open  by 
the  ugly  elm  branch.  In  vain  it  clutched  at  it  with  its 
crooked  claws,  and  sought  to  free  itself.  Roland  paused 
not  a  moment.  He  leaped  clear  over  the  back  of  the 
monster.  Swiftly  he  ran  toward  the  gates.  He  reached 
them,  and  passed  through,  just  as  they  creaked  on  theii 


In  the  Gardens  of  Falerina.  225 

hinges  and  closed  with  a  mighty  crash  behind  him. 
His  foe,  the  dragon,  had  gotten  free  from  the  elm 
branch,  but  too  late  to  do  him  any  harm  ;  for  the  mas- 
sive g«ites  were  between  them. 

Roland  looked  around  him.  On  his  right  was  a  fail 
fountain,  pouring  water  by  a  hundred  silver  jets  into  & 
little  lake  whose  surface  was  dotted  with  water-lilies 
among  which  swam  dozens  of  noble  white  swans.  Out 
of  the  lake  a  little  river  flowed,  meandering  through 
meadows  bright  with  roses  and  violets,  and  flowers  oi 
every  name  and  hue.  In  the  middle  of  the  stream 
stood  a  marble  image,  —  an  image  of  a  river  nymph, 
such  as  in  the  golden  days  haunted  fountain  and  water- 
fall and  every  flowing  stream.  Above  the  brows  of  the 
image  an  inscription  was  written  in  Greek :  "  SEEK- 

EST    THOU     THE     ENCHANTED     PALACE  ?         FOLLOW     THE 

RIVER."     The  knight,   never  doubting,   did  as  the  in 
scription  directed.     The  stream  flowed  through  scenes 
more  delightful  than  any  he  had  ever  dreamed  of.     So 
sv/eet  was  the  music  with  which  the  air  was  filled,  so 
pleasant  were  the  perfumes,  so  beautiful  were  the  birds, 
the  flowers,  the  waterfalls,  the  grottos,  and  the  garden 
walks,  that,  if  Roland  had  not  borne  well  in  mind  ins 
knightly  vows,  he  would  have  been  sorely  tempted  tc 
live  amid  these  joys  forever. 

After  a  long  walk,  which,  however,  seemed  to  him 
only  too  short,  he  reached  the  fairy  palace  of  Falerina. 
It  was  a  gorgeous  and  most  beautiful  structure,  built 
within  and  without  of  glass  and  precious  stones,  arid 


226  The  Story  of  Roland. 

adorned  with  every  thing  that  is  pleasing  to  the  senses 
The  doors  were  wide  open,  and  bevies  of  fairies  were 
passing  in  and  out,  singing  gayly,  and  making  the  palace 
resound  with  the  music  of  their  sweet  voices.  They 
cast  inquiring  glances  at  the  strange  knight  as  they 
passed ;  but,  as  they  had  never  known  an  enemy  in 
Fairyland,  they  thought  him  only  some  stranger  whom 
the  queen  had  invited  to  her  court.  Seeing  that  every 
one  moved  freely  from  one  chamber  to  another  in  that 
vast  palace,  without  hinderance  and  without  ceremony, 
Roland  walked  boldly  in.  For  some  time  he  strolled 
carelessly  about,  listening  to  the  music,  and  watching 
the  nimble  dancers  in  the  great  halls,  or  admiring  the 
many  wonderful  things  with  which  the  palace  was 
stored.  At  last,  in  a  lower  chamber  which  opened  into 
the  garden,  he  found  Falerina,  the  fairy  queen.  She 
was  sitting  alone,  as  was  her  wont  in  the  earlier  hours 
of  the  day,  while  her  attendants  amused  themselves  in 
the  garden.  Before  her,  leaning  against  the  wall,  was 
the  magic  sword,  the  blade  which  had  cost  her  so 
many  weeks  of  anxious  labor.  She  had  but  lately  fin 
ished  it  and  tested  it,  and  now  she  was  quietly  admir 
ing  her  own  good  looks  as  they  were  reflected  from  its 
bright  silvery  sides.  And  very  beautiful  indeed  was 
she,  —  so  beautifu^  that  Roland  paused  in  reverent  ad- 
miration. She  was  dressed  in  rich  white  robes  from 
ever)'  fold  of  which  rare  jewels  gleamed ;  and  upon  her 
head  was  a  golden  crown,  flashing  with  diamonds.  She 
seemed  something  more  divine  than  a  mere  fairy,  and 


In  the   Gardens  of  Falerina. 

j 


akin  to  the  Peris  of  whom  Roland  had  heard  the  Sara- 
cens speak. 

The  hero  paused  but  a  moment.  Before  the  fairy 
could  hinder,  or  call  for  help,  he  seized  the  magk 
sword,  and  raised  it  threateningly  above  her  head. 

"  Yield,  and  I  will  spare  thee  !  '    he  cried. 

The  queen,  never  having  known  such  thing  as  fear, 
sat  still,  and  said  not  a  word. 

"Show  me  the  Trojan  Hector's  arms,"  said  he,  "and 
thou  shalt  live." 

"  Surely,"  then  answered  the  queen,  "  thou  art  a 
brave  warrior  thus  to  threaten  me  in  my  own  dwelling, 
Methinks  thou  art  Knight  Roland  from  the  West." 

"  Roland  is  my  name,"  said  he.  "  And  I  have  come 
in  quest  of  Hector's  arms.  Tell  me  where  I  shall  find 
them." 

"  I  shall  tell  thee  nothing,"  answered  the  fairy,  fold- 
ing her  arms. 

When  Roland  found  that  neither  threats  nor  prayer* 
would  persuade  her  to  tell  him  the  secret,  he  carried 
her  gently  into  the  garden,  and,  with  cords  which  Mala 
gis  the  wizard  had  given  him,  he  bound  her,  hand  and 
foot,  to  a  beech  tree,  so  that  no  fairy  could  ever  unbind 
her.  Then  he  went  out  of  the  palace  to  follow  his 
quest  as  best  he  might,  well  knowing  now  that  nc 
witchery  of  the  fairy  queen  could  harm  him.  As  he 
was  again  following  the  course  of  the  winding  river 
through  meadows  and  groves  and  many  a  scene  of  de- 
light, he  bethought  him  of  the  book  which  the  damnd 


228  The  Story  of  Roland. 

on  the  white  palfrey  had  given  him.  He  opened  it,  and 
looked  at  the  map.  There  was  nothing  said  about  the 
place  where  Hector's  arms  were  hidden.  But  he  saw 
that  on  the  south  there  was  a  gats  which  was  always 
open.  Between  the  gate  and  the  palace  was  a  large 
lake ;  and  in  the  lake,  the  book  said,  there  was  a  siren, 
whose  song  charmed  all  passers-by,  and  had  caused  the 
death  of  many  a  brave  knight. 

As  he  was  now  not  very  far  from  the  lake,  Roland 
resolved  that  he  would  rid  himself  of  another  danger 
by  seeking  the  siren,  and  silencing  her  voice.  As  he 
strolled  across  the  meadows,  he  gathered  great  num- 
bers of  daisies  and  violets,  blue-bells  and  buttercups, 
and  filled  his  helmet  and  his  ears  with  them.  Then 
he  stopped,  and  listened  if  he  could  hear  the  birds  sing. 
He  could  see  their  mouths  open,  their  throats  swell, 
and  their  plumage  ruffle ;  but  he  could  not  hear  the 
slightest  sound.  He  felt  now  that  he  was  proof  against 
the  enchanting  song  of  the  siren,  for  music  never 
lured  a  deaf  man  to  his  destruction.  He  went  boldly 
forward  to  the  lake,  and  wandered  leisurely  along  the 
shore,  admiring  its  mirror-like  surface  and  the  clear- 
ness and  great  depth  of  the  water.  Suddenly,  near  the 
centre  of  the  pool  a  ripple  appeared ;  and  then  a  strange 
creature,  somewhat  like  a  bird,  and  somewhat  like  a 
fish,  arose  above  the  surface,  and  began  to  sing.  The 
siren  was  not  at  all  beautiful ;  but  her  song  was  so 
sweet,  that  all  the  birds  were  silenced,  and  came  flying 
down  in  great  flocks  by  the  shore  to  listen.  The  cattle 


In  the  Gardens  of  Falerina.  229 

gad    «MU*t   ••Mil        I  r   I    .1       I       •      MI  ii  >-.—  ..-         .  —.-—.I      ..i,  .  .111    ........  ,•  - -  '    •     ••'-          •  •  — •       "  *.* 

and  the  wood-beasts  hastened  in  troops  and  crowds  to 
the  waterside,  where  they  stood  fixed  and  entranced  by 
the  soft,  melodious  strains.  The  leaves  of  the  trees 
quivered  in  sympathy  with  the  sounds,  and  even  the 
rocks  seemed  to  hearken  and  to  smile.  Roland  alone 
was  unmoved,  because  he  heard  nothing.  Yet  as  the 
siren  still  sat  in  the  water,  and  kept  on  singing,  he 
made  a  pretence  of  yielding  to  the  charms  of  her  be 
witching  song.  He  fell  down  among  the  flowers  by 
the  lakeside,  and  closed  his  eyes  as  if  in  a  trance.  The 
siren  ended  her  song.  The  birds  and  the  beasts  went 
slowly  back  to  their  places,  and  all  was  quiet  about  the 
lake,  Roland  lay  very  still.  The  siren  swam  close  to 
the  shore,  thinking  to  seize  him,  as  she  had  seized 
many  another  brave  knight,  and  drag  him  down  into 
her  dismal  den  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake ;  but  Roland 
arose  suddenly,  and  grasped  her  long  neck.  Fearful 
were  the  struggles  of  the  creature,  and  loud  were  the 
songs  that  she  sung ;  for  she  hoped  even  yet  to  be- 
witch the  knight  with  the  strange  power  of  music.  But 
the  hero  raised  the  magic  sword  of  Falerina  above  her, 
rod  with  one  stroke  severed  her  hideous  head. 

Freed  now  from  this  last  source  of  danger,  Roland 
started  out  again  in  search  of  the  arms  of  Hector.  He 
followed  every  garden  walk  to  its  end ;  he  sought  in 
every  grove  and  every  grotto :  yet  he  could  nowhere 
find  the  wished-for  prize.  He  asked  the  fairies  whom 
he  sometimes  met ;  but  they  seemed  downhearted  and 
sad,  and  shook  their  heads,  saying  that  they  had  never 


230  The  Story  of  Roland. 

heard  of  Hector,  nor  of  his  arms.  But  an  old  man,  who 
had  lived  in  Fairyland  for  a  great  many  years,  told  him 
that  the  object  of  his  search  had  long  ago  been  carried 
into  another  garden,  and  that  he  could  not  hope  to  find 
it  without  undergoing  many  hardships  and  meeting 
many  dangers  of  which  he  now  knew  nothing. 

Toward  evening  Roland  found  his  way  back  again 
to  the  enchanted  palace  of  the  queen,  but  all  was 
changed.  The  fairies  whom  he  had  seen  there  in  the 
earlier  part  of  the  day  had  fled,  leaving  the  splendid 
mansion  silent  and  desolate.  The  music  had  ceased ; 
shadows  had  taken  the  place  of  sunshine ;  the  flowers 
had  closed  their  petals  ;  the  birds  had  flown  away.  As 
the  knight  walked  across  the  deserted  courtyard,  the 
only  sound  that  he  heard  was  the  echo  of  his  own  foot- 
steps on  the  hard  pavement.  The  silence  was  more 
dreadful  to  him  than  any  danger  that  had  ever  threat- 
ened him.  The  hapless  fairy  queen  was  still  bound 
fast  to  the  beech  tree  where  he  had  left,  her  but  she 
was  no  longer  happy  and  defiant.  Bitterly  she  wept, 
and  earnestly  did  she  beg  him  to  set  her  free.  He 
asked  her  again  where  the  arms  of  the  Trojan  laero 
were  hidden. 

"  By  my  troth,"  said  she,  "  I  know  not  They  were 
long  ago  given  into  the  keeping  of  my  sister,  Morgan 
the  Fay.  If  you  would  win  them,  you  must  make  your 
way  to  her  castle,  and  prove  by  your  prowess  that  you 
are  worthy  of  the  prize.  Then,  when  Fortune  is  ready 
to  award  her  gifts,  be  sure  that  you  let  not  the  golden 
opportunity  slip  by  unimoroved." 


In  the   Gardens  of  Falerina.  231 

The  hero  loosed  the  fairy  queen  from  the  magic 
cords  which  bound  her.  He  called  around  her  the 
frightened  attendants,  and  assured  them  that  he  had 
no  wish  to  harm  either  them  or  their  queen.  Then  he 
bade  the  fair  Falerina  good-by,  and  went  forth  from  her 
gardens  in  search  of  the  far-famed  dwelling  of  Morgan 


Fay. 


The  Story  of  Roland, 


ADVENTURE  XVHL 


MORGAN   THE   FAY. 

THE  castle  of  Morgan  the  Fay  stood  in  a  pleasant 
valley  between  two  forest-crowned  mountains.  It  was 
built  of  the  finest  white  marble,  as  pure  as  alabaster, 
and  as  clear  as  ice.  The  high  walls  which  hemmed  it 
in  on  every  side  were  of  granite ;  and  the  deep  moat 
was  full  of  water  and  spanned  by  a  single  bridge.  A 
mighty  giant,  clad  in  steel  armor,  and  wielding  a  huge 
club,  kept  the  bridge,  and  allowed  no  one  to  pass  over 
it  unchallenged.  And  this  giant  had  never  yet  been 
foiled  or  beaten  in  battle ;  for,  whatever  might  be  the 
strength  or  the  prowess  of  his  foe,  his  own  strength 
was  greater.  Hence  no  living  knight  had  ever  entered 
this  fairy  castle  save  as  the  prisoner  of  its  grm  warder. 

Now,  when  Roland,  eagerly  pursuing  his  quest, 
approached  this  bridge,  the  giant,  as  was  his  wont, 
challenged  him  to  a  combat.  The  knight  was  nowise 
loath  to  measure  arms  with  a  churl  whose  only  virtue 
was  his  strength.  He  drew  the  sword  which  Queen 
Falerina  with  such  infinite  pains  had  wrought,  and  met 
the  giant  on  his  own  ground.  The  boasted  armor  of 


Morgan  the  Fay.  233 


the  bridge  warder  was  no  proof  against  the  biting 
strokes  of  the  magic  blade.  He  would  have  been  killed 
upon  the  spot,  had  he  not  saved  himseli  by  a  cunning 
stratagem  Watching  his  chances,  he  seized  the  knight 
in  his  arms,  and  leaped  with  him  into  the  moat.  He 
could  live  in  water  as  well  as  in  air,  and  he  hoped  by 
this  means  to  drown  the  foe  whom  he  could  not  over- 
come by  force  of  arms.  But  so  well  did  Roland  stiP 
ply  his  sword,  although  half  choked  with  the  cold  water, 
that  the  giant  was  glad  to  let  go  his  hold.  The  knight 
rose  to  the  surface,  and  climbed  upon  the  bridge.  The 
gates  were  wide  open,  and  he  walked  boldly  through. 
He  found  himself,  to  his  astonishment,  in  a  broad 
field,  where  the  ground  was  covered  with  diamonds  and 
pearls,  rubies  and  emeralds,  and  every  other  sort  of 
gem-stone,  as  thickly  as  the  spring  meadows  are  covered 
with  sprouting  grass.  But  he  stopped  not  to  gather  or 
to  admire.  He  hastened  across  the  field,  and  came  into 
a  garden  which  was  far  more  beautiful  than  that  which 
belonged  to  Falerina.  Every  thing  tempted  him  to 
stop,  and  to  pursue  no  farther  his  uncertain  quest.  The 
shady  walks,  the  flowery  borders,  the  cool  bowers,  the 
plashing  waterfalls,  the  rippling  stream,  the  singing 
birds,  the  sunshine,  and  the  breeze,  —  all  seemed  to 
say,  "  Stay  !  here  is  happiness  enough."  But  the  hero 
allowed  none  of  these  things  to  tempt  him.  He  kept 
always  in  mind  that  part  of  his  knightly  vows  which 
forbade  him  to  give  up  any  quest  that  he  had  ones 
undertaken  until  he  had  followed  it  out  to  the  end. 


234  The  Story  of  Roland, 

In  the  middle  of  the  garden  there  was  a  beautiful 
fountain,  and  near  it  was  a  bower  of  surpassing  loveli- 
ness. Around  the  bower  a  score  of  fairies  danced, 
keeping  time  with  the  most  bewitching  strains  of  music 
As  Roland  came  near  to  this  spot,  the  timid  creatures 
ceased  their  merriment,  and  fled  in  great  affright.  He 
peeped  into  the  bower,  and  beheld  a  being  more  beauti- 
ful than  his  dreams  had  ever  pictured.  It  was  Morgan 
the  Fay,  fast  asleep  on  a  bed  of  roses.  Very  small  was 
she,  —  as,  indeed,  were  all  the  folk  in  this  garden,  —  and 
so  wondrously  fair  that  the  knight  stood  long  still,  as  if 
entranced.  And  in  fact  it  was  only  by  bearing  always 
in  mind  his  duty  as  a  knight,  that  he  resisted  the 
temptation  to  give  up  all  his  ambitious  hopes,  and,  for- 
getting the  busy  world  of  men,  to  swear  fealty  to  the 
fairy  queen.  Long  he  might  have  stood  thus  gazing, 
and  wavering  between  duty  and  inclination,  had  he  not 
heard  a  voice  cry  out,  "  Seize  the  beauty  by  the  forelock 
while  yet  the  golden  moment  lasts ! ' 

Then  Roland  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  the  back 
part  of  the  fay's  head  was  quite  bare  and  smooth,  while 
above  her  forehead  there  was  a  rich  growth  of  long 
golden  hair.  It  was  thus  that  men  in  the  earlier  days 
pictured  the  head  of  old  Father  Time.  The  knight  was 
surprised  at  hearing  the  voice,  and  he  thought  not  once 
of  obeying  its  strange  command  He  looked  up.  A 
wondrous  sight  met  his  eyes.  Halfway  between  earth 
and  sky,  hanging  in  mid-air,  he  saw,  as  he  thought,  a 
great  and  busy  city.  There  he  beheld  tail  towers  and 


Morgan  t/te  Pay.  235 

crystal  palaces,  and  churches  with  their  spires  pointing 
heavenward,  and  bustling  market-places,  and  long  lines 
of  streets  crowded  with  hurrying  men  and  women,  and 
cool,  shaded  avenues  where  knights  and  ladies  walked, 
and  ail  that  makes  up  the  glory,  the  beauty,  and  the 
misery  of  a  well-peopled  burgh.  For  a  time  he  forgot 
where  he  was,  and  all  about  the  errand  which  had  taken 
him  there  ;  and  he  imagined  himself  to  be  no  longer  a 
knight-errant  courting  danger,  and  bound  on  deeds  of 
love  and  daring,  but  a  busy  merchant  in  that  air-built 
city,  intent  upon  showing  his  wares,  and  eagerly  count- 
ing his  gains.  While  he  still  gazed,  the  vision  slowly 
faded  away.  Churches  and  palaces  and  market-places 
and  busy  streets  melted  into  thin  airy  clouds,  and  then 
were  seen  no  more.1  Then  Roland,  as  if  awakened  from 
a  trance,  remembered  himself  again,  and  the  quest  upon 
which  he  was  bound.  He  looked  into  the  bower  where 
Morgan  the  Fay  had  been  sleeping,  but  she  was  not 
there.  She  had  arisen,  and  with  the  lightness  of  a 
leaf  driven  about  by  the  fickle  autumn  wind  she  was 
dancing  before  the  fountain.  And  as  she  danced,  she 


u  Seek'st  thou  gifts  from  Morgan  le  Fay  ? 
Seize  her  forelock  whilst  thou  may, 
Let  not  dreams  thy  purpose  stay  : 
She'll  not  come  another  day. 
Fortune's  a  fickle  fairy. 

*  See  Note  13  at  the  end  of  this  votaac. 


236  The  Story  of  Roland. 

Once,  and  only  once,  men  say, 
To  every  one  she  shows  the  way 
To  gain  the  good  for  which  we  pray. 
While  the  sun  shines,  make  the  hay. 
Fortune's  a  fickle  fairy." 

Roland  hesitated.  Had  he  been  attacked  by  giants, 
or  set  upon  by  fierce  beasts,  or  had  the  doughtiest  hero 
in  ail  the  world  challenged  him  to  a  duel,  or  had  he 
been  called  upon  to  perform  any  deed  of  strength  or 
daring,  he  would  not  have  paused  to  think,  or  to  cal- 
culate his  chances.  But  to  seize  Morgan  the  Fay,  this 
fairy  Fortune,  while  she  danced  in  whirling  mazes  before 
him,  —  he  wondered  how  it  could  be  done.  While  yet 
he  waited  and  doubted,  the  fay  suddenly  bounded  away, 
and  fled  from  him  with  the  fleetness  of  a  deer  hunted 
by  hounds.  He  followed  as  fast  as  his  feet  would  carry 
him,  resolved  now  that  nothing  should  hinder  him  from 
attaining  that  fortune  whose  favors  are  but  seldom  with- 
held from  the  brave.  But  the  fairy,  although  at  times 
almost  within  his  grasp,  was  not  easily  caught.  She 
led  him  a  long  chase  through  gardens  and  fields,  and 
among  thickets  of  underbrush  and  briers,  and  over 
many  a  barren,  stony  waste ;  and  at  last  she  flew  over 
the  top  of  a  snow-crowned  mountain,  and  the  disap- 
pointed knight  never  saw  her  again.  Then  a  storm  of 
rain  and  hail  burst  from  the  clouds  above  ;  and  the  light- 
nings flashed,  and  the  thunder  rolled,  and  all  the  demons 
of  the  air  seemed  to  be  abroad.  And  a  gaunt  and  pale- 
faced  witch  came  out  of  a  cavern  on  the  mountain-side 


Morgan  the  Fay. 


with  a  scourge  of  leather  thongs  in  her  hand,  and  she 
drove  the  hero  down  the  slope,  and  back  again  into  the 
valley,  lashing  him  at  every  step  furiously  and  without 
pity. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  he,  meekly  receiving  hk 
punishment  "Who  are  you  who  dare  thus  to  scourge 
a  peer  of  France  ? ' 

"  My  name  is  Repentance,"  answered  the  hag.  "It 
is  my  duty  to  punish  every  one,  who  through  hesitation 
01  neglect  fails  to  seize  the  fairy  fortune  at  that  one 
golden  moment  which  is  allotted  him.  Go  thou,  now, 
back  to  France.  Thy  quest  is  vain.  The  prize  which 
thou  sought  has  been  won  by  another." 

When  Roland  came  down  again  into  the  valley,  he 
looked  to  see  the  snow-white  castle  of  Morgan  the  Fay, 
and  he  thought  to  find  himself  still  in  the  gardens  of 
Fairyland.  But  it  was  not  so.  Castles  and  towers, 
rivers  and  fountains,  flowers  and  birds,  dragons  and 
giants,  and  all  that  had  helped  to  make  up  those  won- 
drous scenes,  had  vanished  like  the  mirage  with  which 
he  had  been  so  enraptured.  Splendid  dreams  had 
given  place  to  sober  reality.  The  hero  saw  before  him 
the  desert  plains  and  the  rocky  mountains  of  Persia ; 
and  a  voice  whispered  to  him  that  fame  and  fortune 
were  to  be  attained,  not  through  the  pursuit  of  fairy 
phantoms  and  vain  chimeras,  but  by  honest,  worthy 
deeds,  and  noble  efforts  for  the  bettering  of  humanity. 
fn  his  hasty  pursuit  of  the  fairy  he  had  lost  the  magic 
sword  that  he  had  taken  from  Falerina.  He  was  now 


238  The  Story  of  Roland. 

without  arms,  and  he  had  no  horse.     He  was  a  stran 
ger,  alone  in  a  strange  land ;  and  many  a  weary  league 
and    many    unknown    dangers    lay  between    him    and 
sweet  France. 

As  he  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  pondering 
upon  this  strange  ending  of  his  visionary  quest,  an  o*d 
man  drew  near,  riding  upon  a  mule  and  leading  a  war- 
steed  fully  caparisoned,  with  saddle  and  bridle  and 
trappings  of  velvet  and  gold.  Across  the  saddle  bows 
lay  a  sword,  sheathed  in  its  scabbard,  but  whose  hilt 
fairly  shone  with  its  wealth  of  priceless  gems.  The 
horse  was  his  own  lost  Brigliadoro,  and  the  sword  was 
Durandal. 

"Sir  knight,"  said  the  old  man  very  courteously, 
"  allow  me  to  be  your  squire.  I  bring  you  your  horse 
and  sword.  Mount,  I  pray  you,  and  let  us  hasten  back 
to  France  and  to  Charlemagne,  who  is  in  need  of  your 
help." 

"  But  the  arms  of  Hector  are  not  yet  mine,"  an- 
swered Roland ;  "  and  I  doubt  if  I  may  honorably  return 
without  them." 

"  You  can  scarcely  do  otherwise,"  answered  the 
squire ;  "  for  while  you  waited  and  dreamed,  and  hesi- 
tated to  seize  the  fairy  by  the  forelock,  another  knight, 
a  Tartar  prince,  went  boldly  in,  and  seized  the  prize 
and  bore  it  away.  And  he  is  even  now  well  on  his  way 
toward  France  ;  for  he  has  vowed  that  he  will  win  from 
you  the  sword  Durandai,  and  thus  make  all  of  Hector's 
matchless  arms  his  own." 


Morgan  the  Fay.  239 

Then  Roland  mounted  Brigliadoro,  and,  followed  by 
the  good  squire,  rode  bravely  back  toward  France. 
But  he  coveted  no  longer  the  arms  of  Trojan  Hector, 
aad  felt  only  happy  in  the  possession  of  his  own. 


240  The  Story  of  Roland. 


ADVENTURE  XIX. 


HOW  OGIER   REFUSED   A   KINGDOM. 

LONG  had  been  Roland's  fruitless  quest  for  the  arms 
of  Trojan  Hector ;  and  many  were  his  adventures,  as, 
wiser  but  no  richer,  he  fared  homeward  again.  Time 
would  fail  me  to  tell  of  the  strange  lands  that  he  trav- 
ersed, of  the  seas  that  he  crossed,  of  the  monsters  that 
he  slew,  and  of  his  many  knightly  feats  of  arms.  And, 
when  it  was  known  that  he  had  come  back  to  France 
without  the  prize  for  which  he  had  been  seeking,  many 
ankind  words  were  whispered  among  the  peers. 

"A  true  knight,"  said  old  Ganelon,  "never  gives  up 
n  undertaking  once  begun.  Any  but  a  coward  would 
rather  die  than  say,  *  I  have  failed.' 

Others  whispered,  that  it  was  not  the  arms  of  Hector 
at  all,  that  Roland  had  been  in  quest  of,  but  rather  the 
love  of  Angelica,  the  Princess  of  Cathay. 

"  And  now,  since  she  has  slighted  him,  and  cast  him 
off,"  said  some,  "he  comes  back  again  to  lord  it  over 
his  betters,  as  of  yore.  Yet  it  is  said  that  he  did  many 
valiant  deeds  in  the  Far  East" 

"So  much  valor,"  said  others,  "would  have  been 
better  spent  in  the  service  of  the  king," 


How  Ogier  refused  a  Kingdom.         241 

Charlemagne  had  been  beset  with  enemies  on  every 
side.  The  Moors  of  Spain  had  broken  over  the  moun- 
tain wall  of  the  Pyrenees,  and  had  again  overrun  Gas- 
cony,  and  carried  fire  and  sword  into  the  fairest  portions 
of  Southern  France.  The  Saxons,  ever  restless  and  ill 
at  ease,  had  again  taken  up  arms  against  the  empire, 
The  wild  Hungarians  had  been  making  inroads  into  the 
eastern  provinces ;  and  the  Lombards  were  ready  at 
any  time  to  rise  in  rebellion.  Very  gladly,  therefore, 
did  the  king  welcome  his  valiant  nephew  back  to 
France,  for  he  needed  the  help  of  his  strong  arm. 

One  day  early  in  spring  there  came  to  Charlemagne's 
court  a  number  of  Danish  knights  bearing  a  message 
from  their  king,  the  false-hearted  Godfrey  of  Denmark. 
They  brought  from  Godfrey  a  great  store  of  rich  pres- 
ents for  Charlemagne,  and  treasure  more  than  enough 
to  make  amends  for  the  tribute  which  had  so  long  been 
neglected  and  left  unpaid.  And  the  Danish  king  prayed 
Charlemagne  that  he  would  pardon  his  former  miscon- 
duct, and  receive  him  once  more  into  humble  and  faith- 
ful vassalage;  for  pirates  and  strange  sea-kings  from 
the  Far  North  had  come  down  upon  the  coast  of  Den 
mark,  and  were  robbing  and  burning,  and  carrying  ter- 
ror into  the  very  heart  of  the  country,  and  Godfrey 
hoped  that  Charlemagne  would  aid  him  in  driving  out 
the  invaders.  Charlemagne,  although  not  always  quick 
to  forgive,  was  quite  ready  at  this  trying  time  to  make 
friends  with  the  Dane.  And  he  kindly  entertained  the 
messengers,  and  sent  them  back  on  the  morrow,  with 


242  The  Story  of  Roland. 

assurances  that  he  would  pardon  the  offences  of  King 
Godfrey,  and  send  him  the  wished-for  aid.  Then  he 
called  Ggier  the  Dane  into  his  presence. 

"Ogier,"  said  he,  "your  father,  the  king  of  Den- 
mark, is  sorely  pressed  by  his  enemies,  and  needs  our 
help.  No  one  knows  better  than  yourself  how  he  has 
neglected  and  cast  you  off  among  strangers.  And  yet 
it  is  our  wish  that  you  lead  a  company  of  warriors  to 
his  aid.'* 

"  It  is  well,"  answered  Ogier.  "  Naught  save  death 
can  ever  excuse  a  son  from  helping  his  father." 

A  thousand  knights,  the  bravest  in  all  France,  at 
once  enlisted  under  Ogier' s  banner ;  and  without  a 
day's  delay  they  began  their  march  toward  Denmark. 
With  Ogier,  and  next  to  him  in  command,  was  Roland ; 
and  the  very  presence  of  the  two  heroes  inspired  the 
whole  of  the  little  army  with  high-hearted  enthusiasm 
and  courage.  Their  march  was  rapid,  and  not  long 
were  they  in  reaching  the  land  of  the  Danes.  But  the 
foe  whom  they  sought  had  fled ;  for,  when  the  rude 
sea-kings  heard  of  the  coming  of  the  steel-clad  warriors 
of  the  South,  they  hastily  embarked  in  their  ships  again, 
and  sailed  across  the  sea  to  other  shores.  They  lived 
by  pillage  and  robbery,  and  they  were  fearful  of  risking 
a  battle  with  an  enemy  so  renowned  and  powerful. 

Ogier  with  his  little  army  now  rode  on  toward  his 
father's  castle.  But,  as  Aiiey  drew  near,  they  saw  the 
towers  draped  in  black,  and  heard  the  bells  tolling  a 
solemn  knell.  A  black  banner,  on  which  the  arms  oi 


Ogier  refused  a  Kingdom.         243 

King  Godfrey  were  rudely  painted,  floated  above  the 
gate.  And  a  company  of  knights,  all  clad  in  mourning, 
came  out  to  meet  and  welcome  the  heroes. 

"  What  mean  all  these  signs  of  sorrow  ? "  asked 
Ogier.  "We  have  come  to  you  expecting  to  be  greeted 
with  cheers  and  songs  and  glad  thanksgiving,  and  we 
find  naught  but  weeping  and  doleful  signs  of  death, 
Has  any  thing  happened  amiss  to  my  father  the  king  ? >! 

"Alas !"  said  the  sorrowing  knights,  "he  is  dead." 

Then  Ogier,  unable  to  answer  by  reason  of  his  great 
grief,  covered  up  his  face,  and  wept.  And  Roland  and 
the  Danish  knights  led  him  into  the  castle  and  into  the 
chapel,  where  the  body  of  King  Godfrey  lay.  The  hero 
knelt  beside  his  father's  bier,  and  bathed  the  face  of 
the  dead  with  his  tears.  Touching  indeed  was  it  to  be- 
hold this  warrior  melted  with  sorrow  in  the  presence  of 
death.  For  although  he  had  been  maltreated  and  de- 
spised, and  cast  out  among  strangers,  he  had  never  for- 
gotten that  a  son's  first  duty  is  to  honor  his  father. 
Long  he  knelt  on  the  floor  of  the  little  chapel,  while 
the  monks  who  watched  beside  the  corpse  chanted 
their  prayers,  and  told  their  beads ;  and  the  tapers  on 
the  altar  burned  low ;  and  the  daylight  gave  place  to 
darkness.  Then  he  arose,  and  v/as  about  to  leave  the 
room,  when  the  priest  who  had  been  his  father's  con- 
fessor touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Ogier,"  said  he,  "  allow  me  to  be  the  first  to  greet 
you  as  king  of  Denmark.  The  last  words  of  your 
father  were,  '  Let  Ogier  be  king.' 


244  Tfa  .Story  of  Roland. 


Ogier  stood  for  a  moment  in  silent  thought.  He 
hesitated  as  to  what  his  duty  might  be.  Ought  he,  by 
taking  that  which  was  clearly  his  own,  to  deprive  his 
younger  brother  of  the  crown  which  he  had  been  taught 
£o  expect  ?  Suddenly  a  heavenly  light  burst  upon  him 
and  filled  the  room  with  its  soft  radiance ;  and  a  voice 
like  that  of  an  angel  said,  — 

"  Ogier,  take  not  this  crown.  Leave  it  to  Guyon  thy 
young  brother.  It  is  enough  for  thee  to  bear  the  title 
of  'The  Dane,'  Fame  waits  for  thee  elsewhere,  and 
greater  kingdoms  than  that  of  Denmark  may  be  thine." 

It  was  the  voice  of  Morgan  the  Fay,  the  fairy  guard- 
ian of  his  life.  But  Ogier  thought  that  it  was  an 
angel  from  heaven  who  had  spoken ;  and  he  humbly 
crossed  himself,  and  bowed  in  submission  to  the  com- 
mand. He  sought  without  delay  the  step-mother  who 
had  so  cruelly  wronged  him. 

"Mother,"  said  he,  "all  that  which  thou  hast  so  long 
desired  has  come  to  pass." 

And  he  embraced  his  young  brother  Guyon,  and 
hailed  him  king.  And  he  said,  "  I  am  a  peer  of 
France,  a  knight  of  the  household  of  Charlemagne.  I 
seek  no  higher  honors/1 

And  heralds  were  sent  into  every  city  and  burgh 
proclaiming  Guyon  as  the  lawful  king  of  all  Denmark. 
And  Guyon  solemnly  promised  to  hold  his  kingdom  in 
fief  and  vassalage  from  Charlemagne, 


How  Roland  slew  a  Sea  Monster.        245 


ADVENTURE  XX. 


HOW    ROLAND   SLEW   A   SEA  MONSTER. 

WHEN,  at  length,  the  days  of  mourning  for  Duk* 
Godfrey  were  passed,  Ogier  and  the  knights  who  were; 
with  him  turned  their  faces  southward,  and  rode  back 
again  to  France.  But  Roland  parted  from  their  com- 
pany, and  went  another  way,  for  Charlemagne  had 
intrusted  him  with  a  message  to  Oberto,  the  king  oi 
Ireland  ;  and  to  that  country  he  directed  his  course. 
At  the  nearest  port  on  the  coast  a  little  ship  awaited 
him ;  and  in  this  he  embarked,  and  sailed  across  the 
western  sea. 

For  many  days  the  vessel  ploughed  the  waters,  and 
the  sky  was  clear,  arid  the  wind  was  fair,  arid  the  voy- 
age was  a  happy  one.  And  those  on  board  beguiled 
the  hours  with  pleasant  talk  and  with  many  wonderful 
tales  of  the  sea.  The  captain  was  a  browned  and 
weather-beaten  Norseman,  who  had  sailed  the  waters 
for  more  than  twoscore  years,  and  who  knew  every 
strait  and  shallow  and  every  point  of  land,  from  Goth- 
land to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules.  And  he  delighted  to 
tell  of  the  many  scenes  of  danger  through  which  be 


246  The  Story  of  Roland. 


had  passed,  and  of  the  feats  of  daring  which  he  had 
seen  on  land  and  sea,  and  of  the  strange  beings  which 
people  the  deep.  One  day  he  talked  about  the  mer- 
maids and  the  men  of  the  sea ;  and  he  told  of  the  great 
Midgard  snake  whom  the  Northmen  believe  to  lie  hid* 
den  in  the  deepest  ocean ;  and  he  related  the  story  ol 
Old  ./Egir  the  Ocean  King,  and  of  his  nine  daughters, 
the  white-veiled  Waves.  And  when  he  had  finished, 
Roland  said  that  what  he  had  told  reminded  him  of  cer- 
tain stories  which  he  had  heard  in  the  South,  —  stories 
of  the  old  Pagan  times,  when  the  gods  were  thought 
to  live  on  earth,  and  to  take  some  sort  of  interest  in 
the  doings  of  men.  And  he  spoke  of  Poseidon,  whom 
the  Greeks  called  the  ruler  of  the  sea;  and  of  old 
Nereus  and  his  fifty  daughters,  the  silver-footed  sea 
nymphs.  And  this  led  him  to  relate  the  beautiful  fable 
of  Andromeda,  and  her  rescue  by  Perseus  from  the  sea 
monster  whom  Poseidon  had  sent  to  devour  her. 

"But  the  gods  are  all  dead  now,"  said  he,  "and 
neither  ^gir  nor  Poseidon  rules  the  sea." 

Then  an  old  Irish  harper  who  happened  to  be  on 
shipboard  spoke,  and  said,  "Sir  knight,  if  all  reports 
be  true,  some  of  the  sea  deities  still  live,  and  are  known 
m  regions  where  the  Christian  religion  has  not  yet 
been  preached.  Indeed,  I  have  heard  that  in  the  Island 
of  Ebuda,  a  day's  sail  west  of  Ireland,  old  Proteus,  the 
servant  of  Poseidon,  is  even  now  imitating  the  deeds 
>f  his  ancient  master." 

Then  the  company  insisted  that  the   harper  should 


How  Roland  slew  a  Sea  Monster.        247 

tell  them  all  that  he  knew  about  this  matter,  and  he 
did  as  they  desired  him. 

"In  the  golden  age/'  said  he,  "it  was  the  task  of 
Proteus  to  keep  the  seals  and  sea  calves  for  his  master 
Poseidon,  to  lead  them  into  the  pleasantest  waters 
and  to  the  freshest  pastures,  and  to  see  that  no  one 
wilfully  harmed  them.  When  the  times  changed,  and 
his  old  master  was  dethroned  and  no  longer  needed  his 
services,  he  still  kept  on  herding  and  caring  for  the 
seals  and  sea  calves ;  for  the  power  of  habit  was  so 
strong  that  he  could  not  tear  himself  away  from  his  old 
haunts,  nor  change  his  occupation.  And  as  he  was  usu- 
ally very  peaceable,  and  thought  to  be  quite  harmless, 
very  little  attention  was  paid  to  him ;  and  he  was 
allowed  to  live  on,  and  ply  his  vocation,  long  after  all 
the  other  sea  deities  were  deposed  and  forgotten.  One 
day,  as  he  was  driving  about  in  his  swan  chariot,  and 
looking  after  his  herds,  he  came  to  this  Island  of  Ebuda 
of  which  I  have  just  spoken.  It  chanced,  that,  as  he. 
drove  close  by  the  shore,  the  golden-haired  daughter  of 
the  King  of  Ebuda  stood  on  the  beach.  She  was  more 
passing  fair  than  ever  were  the  sea  nymphs  of  old,  or 
the  mermaids,  or  the  white-veiled  daughters  of  ^Egir. 
And  the  heait  of  the  ancient  Proteus  was  moved  with 
love  for  the  maiden,  and  he  forthwith  besought  the  king 
that  he  would  give  her  to  him  in  marriage.  But  the 
father  of  the  maiden  scorned  his  suit.  Should  he,  the 
king  of  Ebuda,  wed  his  only  daughter  to  the  last  of  a 
dying  race,  —  to  the  last  and  the  least  worthy  of  the 


248  The  Story  of  Roland. 

— ' 

sea  gods  ?  Let  him  go  back  to  his  seals  and  sea-calves, 
and  never  again  think  of  making  himself  the  peer  ol 
human  beings. 

"  Then  the  love  of  old  Proteus  was  changed  to  hate, 
and  he  vowed  that  he  would  not  rest  nor  slumber  until 
he  had  avenged  the  slight  that  had  thus  been  put  upon 
him.  And  he  sent  great  troops  of  sea  calves  to  ravage 
the  coasts  of  Ebuda ;  and  after  them  he  caused  a  huge 
and  shapeless  monster,  called  an  ore,  to  come,  and  over- 
run the  whole  island.  Never  was  there  greater  dis- 
tress and  terror.  The  frightened  people  fled  from  their 
farms  and  villages,  and  sought  safety  in  the  walled 
towns  ;  and,  between  famine  and  the  ravages  of  the 
sea  monsters,  it  seemed  as  if  the  entire  nation  would  be 
destroyed.  Now,  it  appears  that  there  was  in  Ebuda 
some  kind  of  an  oracle,  in  whose  decisions  the  people 
placed  great  trust.  And  the  king  prayed  the  oracle 
that  he  might  know  how  to  appease  the  anger  of  old 
Proteus,  and  turn  his  fearful  wrath  away.  And  the 
oracle  answered,  and  said  that  this  could  be  done  only 
by  offering  a  daily  sacrifice  to  Proteus  to  be  devoured 
by  the  monster  ore. 

"  « What  shall  that  sacrifice  be  ? '  asked  the  king. 

"  3  The  fairest  maiden  that  can  be  found  either  in 
Ebuda  or  in  the  neighboring  isles,'  was  the  answer. 

"  *  And  how  long  shall  this  fearful  payment  of  tribute 
continue  ? '  asked  the  king. 

"  And  the  oracle  answered,  '  Until  a  hero  shall  come 
to  Ebuda' s  shores  brave  enough  and  strong  enough  to 


How  Roland  slew  a  Sea  Monster.        249 


slay  the  ore.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  will  Proteus  with 
draw  the  curse  which  he  has  laid  upon  you,  and  eave 
your  people  in  peace/ 

44  And  it  was  done  as  the  oracle  had  bidden.  Each 
day  a  damsel,  the  fairest  that  could  be  found,  was  of 
fered  to  the  ore ;  and  the  creature  ceased  his  ravagess 
and  allowed  the  people  to  return  to  their  homes  and 
farms.  And  each  day,  as  a  new  victim  was  led  to  the 
horrible  sacrifice,  the  people  prayed  for  the  coming  of 
the  hero  who  should  save  their  loved  ones  from  this 
dreadful  doom.  But  he  came  not. 

"And  it  is  said  that  still  in  the  Island  of  Ebuda  this 
cruel  usage  is  continued,  and  that  the  Pagan  folk  who 
live  in  that  land  no  longer  look  upon  this  sacrifice  with 
horror  and  aversion,  but  that,  grown  barbarous  and  un- 
feeling, they  send  their  ships  to  the  neighboring  coasts, 
and  bring  home  scores  of  fair  captives  to  be  offered  to 
the  bloodthirsty  ore.  Many  a  noble  Irish  maiden,  I 
know,  has  been  stolen  from  our  shores,  and  sacrificed 
thus  horribly  by  the  Ebudans." 

"  Where  sayest  thou  this  savage  Island  of  Ebuda 
lies  ? '  asked  Roland. 

"  In  the  great  western  ocean,"  answered  the  harper, 
*  It  lies  many  leagues  west  of  green  Erin." 

"Turn,  then,  thy  course,  good  sea  captain,"  said  Ro- 
land to  the  master  of  the  ship.  "  Steer  straight  for  that 
island  kingdom.  If  such  barbarous  custom  still  con- 
tinues there,  it  shall  not  be  much  longer." 

But  the  winds,  as  if  in  league  with  the  wrathful  Pro- 


250  The  Story  of  Roland. 


teus,  hesitated  to  hasten  the  vessel  on  its  way ;  and  as 
the  eagerness  of  the  knight  waxed  stronger,  so  was  the 
progress  of  the  ship  delayed.  Sometimes  the  breeze 
died  away,  and  there  was  a  calm ;  the  sails  hung  loose 
and  useless  upon  the  masts,  and,  had  not  the  seamen 
plied  their  oars,  the  vessel  would  have  stood  still 
Sometimes  a  west  wind  sprang  up,  and  blew  strong 
against  them,  and  they  were  forced  to  tack  about,  and 
veer  far  from  their  intended  course.  And  so  it  befell 
that  many  days  passed  by,  ere,  at  length,  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  wooded  shores  of  Ebuda,  and  the  captain 
pointed  out  the  high  rock  where  the  fair  victims  were 
daily  left  as  food  for  the  ravenous  ore. 

When  they  drew  near  the  place,  Roland  ordered  the 
ship's  boat  to  be  lowered ;  and  in  it  he  placed  the  largest 
anchor  and  the  strongest  cable  that  could  be  found 
Then  he  sat  down  in  the  boat ;  and  alone  and  unarmed> 
save  that  he  carried  the  trusty  Durandal,  he  rowed 
toward  the  rock.  It  was  about  the  hour  of  sunrise,  — 
the  time  when  the  monster,  they  said,  was  wont  to 
come  for  his  daily  meal.  As  the  hero  rowed  close  to  the 
shore,  he  fancied  that  he  heard  faint  moans,  and  feeble 
cries  of  distress.  He  looked  around,  and  saw  a  maiden 
chained  to  the  rock  with  iron  links,  her  feet  wetted  by 
the  rising  tide,  and  her  face  hidden  beneath  the  long 
tresses  of  golden  hair  that  fell  about  her  neck  and 
shoulders.  His  heart  melted  with  pity,  and  the  sight 
nerved  his  arm  for  the  strange  contest  which  was  near. 
He  was  about  to  speak  to  the  maiden,  when  a  sudden 


How  Roland  slew  a  Sea  Monster,        251 

sound  was  heard,  —  a  roaring  like  that  of  a  strong  wind 
among  the  forest  trees,  or  of  the  waves  rolling  madly 
into  some  ocean  cave.  He  heard  the  loud  shouts  of  his 
companions  on  shipboard :  the  breakers  began  to  rise 
around  his  little  boat.  The  monster  was  at  hand,,  huge 
as  a  rock-built  castle,  dark  and  terrible  as  a  thunder- 
cloud, fearless  as  the  waves  themselves. 

Quickly  Roland  went  to  meet  the  beast ;  he  stood  up 
in  the  boat  with  the  anchor  in  his  hand ;  quietly  he 
awaited  the  onset.  The  ore  saw  him,  and  opened  his 
jaws  to  swallow  both  him  and  the  boat  The  red  eyes 
of  the  creature  glared  like  baleful  bonfires  in  the  morn- 
ing light ;  his  huge  tail  lashed  the  waters  into  a  foam. 
It  was  a  fearful  moment,  but  Roland  faltered  not.  He 
raised  the  heavy  anchor  still  higher ;  and  then,  with  the 
strength  of  a  knight  well  trained  in  the  use  of  every 
weapon,  he  hurled  it  into  the  monster's  wide-open 
mouth.  And  there  it  remained,  propping  the  huge 
jaws  apart,  and  so  firmly  fixed  that  the  ore  could  by  no 
means  remove  it.  At  nearly  the  same  moment  Roland 
drew  his  sword,  the  mighty  Durandal ;  and,  calling  up  all 
his  strength,  he  struck  the  monster  a  blow  which  almost 
severed  his  head  from  his  body.  Then  guarding  the 
rope  to  which  the  anchor  was  fastened,  he  seized  the 
oars,  and  rowed  swiftly  to  the  shore.  He  leaped  upon 
the  beach ;  and,  encouraged  by  the  shouts  and  cheers  of 
his  friends  on  board  the  ship,  he  dragged  the  now  dead 
monster  to  the  land. 

And  now  he  bethought  him  of  the  captive   maiden 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


chained  to  the  rock,  and  half  fallen  into  a  swoon, 
scarcely  knowing  that  she  had  been  saved  from  the 
terrible  death  that  had  threatened  her.  With  a  single 
stroke  of  Durandal,  the  hero  severed  the  iron  links  ; 
and  then  he  took  her  gently  by  the  hand,  and  led  her 
away  from  that  dreadful  rock,  and  seated  her  in  a  pleas- 
ant, sunny  place  high  on  the  shore.  With  kind  and 
cheerful  words  he  sought  to  arouse  her  drooping  spirits  ; 
for  she  seemed  dazed  and  bewildered,  as  if  waking  from 
a  dream,  and  unable  for  a  time  to  remember  where  she 
was.  He  asked  her  her  name,  and  inquired  how  she,  so 
unlike  the  dwellers  in  Ebuda,  had  been  cast  on  this 
barbarous  shore  and  offered  in  sacrifice  to  the  blood- 
thirsty ore.  She  told  him  that  her  name  was  Olympia, 
and  that,  in  her  own  home  beyond  the  seas,  she  was  a 
princess,  loved  and  honored  by  hosts  of  subjects.  And 
then  she  related,  how,  one  day  while  walking  alone  or? 
the  seashore,  she  had  been  seized  by  pirates  from  Ebu- 
da, and,  with  other  fair  captives,  had  been  brought  to 
this  savage  shore,  and  reserved  as  a  peace-offering  to 
the  monster  whom  the  Ebudans  foolishly  believed  to 
have  been  sent  by  old  Proteus. 

Scarcely  had  the  princess  ended  her  story  when  a 
new  and  unexpected  danger  threatened  our  hero.  The 
folk  of  Ebuda  had  heard  of  the  strange  combat  between 
the  knight  and  the  ore,  and  now  in  great  numbers  they 
came  trooping  to  the  shore.  They  stood  upon  the  cliffs 
above,  and  along  the  beach,  and  some  carne  down  even 
to  the  water's  edge,  to  see  the  dead  monster  and  the 


How  Roland  slew  a  Sea  Monster*        253 


hero  who  had  slain  him.  But,  although  they  had  been 
freed  from  the  terror  of  their  lives,  they  were  not 
pleased  ;  neither  felt  they  in  the  least  thankful  to  their 
deliverer. 

"Alas !"  cried  they,  "this  man  has  slain  the  servant 
of  old  Proteus,  and  now  it  will  go  hard  with  us  who 
were  charged  with  his  keeping.  For  will  not  the  sea 
god  curse  us  again,  and  send  his  herds  of  sea  calves  to 
lay  waste  our  shores  ?  Better  it  is  to  endure  a  single 
evil  than  to  risk  the  coming  of  a  multitude  of  others. 
The  poor  ore  was  not  as  bad  as  he  might  have  been  ; 
and,  now  he  is  dead,  there  is  no  telling  what  may  befall 


us." 

« 


That  is  true/'  answered  others ;  "  and  the  only  safe 
way  for  us  to  do  is  to  turn  away  the  wrath  of  old  Pro- 
teus by  punishing  the  man  who  has  lifted  up  his  sacri 
legious  hand  against  the  ore.  Let  us  pitch  this  busy 
meddler,  whoever  he  may  be,  into  the  sea,  that  he  may 
give  his  own  account  to  the  outraged  sea  god  whom  we 


serve.' 


Then  a  great  clamor  and  shouting  arose  ;  and  those 
who  stood  highest  upon  the  cliffs  began  hurling  stones 
and  darts  at  Roland ;  and  those  who  were  nearest 
rushed  toward  him  with  drawn  swords.  There  is  no 
telling  what  would  have  been  the  end  of  this  affray,  had 
not  a  company  of  armed  knights  rushed  unexpectedly 
upon  the  scene.  They  were  men  of  Ireland,  who  with 
their  king,  Oberto,  had  come  with  a  fleet  of  ships  to 
punish  the  savage  islanders  for  their  piracies  upon  the 


254  ^e  Story  of  Roland, 

Irish  shores.  So  great  was  the  surprise  of  the  Ebu- 
dans  that  they  turned  at  once,  and  fled  in  wild  diumay 
from  the  shore ;  nor  did  they  stop  in  their  flight  until 
they  were  safely  shut  up  within  their  city  walls. 

The  meeting  between  Roland  and  King  Obertv  was 
a  happy  one ;  for  they  had  been  pages  together  at  the 
court  of  Charlemagne,  and  they  recognized  each  other 
as  old  and  tried  friends.  And  when  the  Irish  king  saw 
the  dead  ore,  and  heard  Roland's  story  of  the  combat 
which  had  taken  place,  he  resolved  that  he  would  return 
at  once  to  his  own  land  and  leave  the  Ebudans  in  peace. 
And  when  all  had  gone  aboard  their  ships  again,  the 
sails  were  spread,  and  the  fleet  sped  gayly  back  toward 
Ireland.  And  Roland  and  the  Princess  Olympia  were 
guests  on  board  the  king's  own  vessel.  And  old  stories 
tell  us  that  Oberto  afterwards  wedded  Olympia,  making 
her  the  Queen  of  Ireland  ;  and  that  for  many  years  they 
lived  most  happily  together,  loved  and  honored  by  all 
their  subjects.  As  for  Roland,  he  tarried  not  long  at 
the  Irish  court ;  but,  having  delivered  the  message 
which  he  bore  from  Charlemagne,  he  took  ship  again* 
uid  hastened  back  to  France.1 

Note  14  24  tfes  eed  ef  this 


How  Roland  fell  into  Prison.  255 


ADVENTURE  XXI. 


HOW  ROLAND  FELL  INTO   PRISON. 

IT  was  indeed  high  time  that  Roland  should  hastei 
his  return  to  France;  for  Charlemagne,  hard  pressed 
by  foes  on  every  side,  was  in  sore  need  of  help.  From 
every  Saracen  land,  fierce  hordes  of  Pagans  came  pour- 
ing into  France,  and  threatening  to  overrun  the  whole 
of  Christendom.  Sacripant,  the  Circassian  king,  with 
ten  thousand  picked  warriors  from  Persia  and  India, 
had  landed  on  the  southern  coast,  vowing  that  he  would 
not  return  to  his  own  country  until  he  had  overcome 
Charlemagne  in  battle  and  made  France  his  own. 
Marsilius  of  Spain  had  again  crowed  the  Pyrenees  with 
his  Moorish  chivalry,  and  had  hastened  to  join  his  forces 
with  those  of  Sacripant,  Agramont,  the  king  of  Africa, 
with  a  great  fleet  of  ships,  was  coming  over  the  sea ; 
and  Rodomont,  the  most  renowned  of  all  the  Algerian 
chiefs,  had  landed  near  Marseilles.  Unless  help  should 
come  soon,  it  seemed  as  if  all  France  would  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  Pagans.  Charlemagne  hastily  gathered 
his  hosts  together,  and  marched  to  meet  the  foe.  With 
him  were  many  of  his  bravest  knights,  —  Duke  Namon, 


256  Ttie  Story  of  Roland. 

and  Ganelon,  and  Oliver,  and  Ogier  the  Dane,  and 
Richard  of  Normandy.  But  Reinold  of  Montalban  was 
in  England,  and  Roland  had  not  yet  returned  from  his 
embassy  to  the  Irish  king. 

Christians  and  Saracens  met  face  to  face  in  a  wooded 
valley  between  two  mountains,  and  both  sides  began  to 
make  ready  for  battle;  but  the  unbelievers  outnum- 
bered the  Christians  two  to  one. 

"If  Roland  were  only  here,"  said  the  French  among 
themselves,  "  all  would  go  well  with  us.  His  presence 
would  be  worth  more  than  a  thousand  men." 

Just  as  the  fray  was  about  to  begin,  a  fair  lady  was 
brought  as  a  prisoner  before  King  Charlemagne.  It 
was  Angelica,  the  Princess  of  Cathay.  What  mishap 
had  again  forced  her  to  leave  her  native  land,  and  placed 
her  at  this  moment  in  the  power  of  the  Christian 
king  ?  Some  said  that  she  was  a  witch,  and  that  she 
had  come  hither  to  ply  her  magic  arts  for  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  Christian  host  ?  Others  whispered  that  she 
had  followed  Roland  from  the  Far  East,  and  that  she 
bore  in  her  heait  great  love  for  that  matchless  hero. 
But  the  truth  of  the  matter  is,  that  a  scheming  thief 
had  stolen  her  magic  ring,  and  carried  it  to  Africa  or  to 
Spain ;  and  it  was  in  search  of  this  wonderful  talisman 
that  she  had  come  again  to  the  West  The  king  com- 
manded that  the  maiden  should  be  closely  guarded 
until  after  the  battle ;  and  he  said  that  then  he  would 
find  out  the  measure  of  her  faults,  and  decide 
punishment  should  be  hers, 


How  Roland  fell  into  Prison  257 

The  battle  began.  Many  were  the  deeds  of  valor  on 
both  sides,  and  never  before  had  the  peers  of  France 
fought  so  bravely.  But  to  the  Saracens  the  victory 
seemed,  from  the  beginning,  to  be  assured.  Oliver 
was  unhorsed ;  Ogier  was  sorely  beset  by  numbers  of 
Moorish  knights ;  Duke  Namon  was  taken  prisoner, 
Ganelon,  the  traitor  and  coward,  giving  up  all  for  lost, 
turned,  and  fled  ingloriously  from  the  field.  The  king 
himself  was  wounded,  and  with  great  difficulty  saved 
himself  from  capture.  The  Pagans  were  everywhere 
the  masters. 

"  If  Roland  or  Reinold  had  been  here,  it  would  not 
have  been  so,"  sadly  said  the  defeated  knights  as  they 
unwillingly  withdrew  from  the  fight. 

When  the  squires  who  had  been  left  behind  to  guard 
the  Princess  Angelica  learned  that  the  day  was  lost, 
they  mounted  their  horses,  and  fled  in  great  disorder 
from  the  scene  of  battle.  The  maiden,  finding  her- 
self free,  also  mounted  a  palfrey,  and  rode  aimlessly 
away. 

As  Angelica  wandered  onward  through  the  wood, 
trembling  at  every  sound,  and  fearing  to  be  overtaken 
by  either  Christian  or  Moor,  she  came  at  length  to  the 
bank  of  a  deep  and  rapid-lowing  river.  Anxiously  she 
rode  up  and  down,  seeking  to  find  some  shallow  ford,  or 
other  means  of  crossing.  While  doing  this,  she  was 
startled  by  seeing  in  the  middle  of  the  stream  a  tall 
knight,  dark-browed  and  fierce,  wading  about  as  if  in 
search  of  something  lost  in  the  water.  The  knight's 


258  The  Story  of  Roland. 

head  was  bare,  and  she  rightly  guessed  that  it  was  his 
helmet  which  he  sought  in  the  rushing  river.  She  had 
seen  that  cruel,  brutish  face  once  before.  What  if  he 
should  see  her,  and  make  her  his  prisoner?  She 
stopped  not  a  moment,  but  turned  her  palfrey  about, 
and  again  sought  safety  in  the  leafy  shadows  of  the 
wood. 

It  was  the  Moorish  prince  Ferrau,  whom  Angelica 
had  seen  wading  in  the  stream.  He  had  paused  in  his 
fierce  pursuit  of  the  vanquished  Christians  to  quench 
his  thirst  from  the  river.  As  he  bent  over,  his  helmet 
—  the  very  one  that  he  had  stolen  from  the  murdered 
Argalia  of  Cathay  —  slipped  from  his  head,  and  fell  into 
the  water.  Vainly  did  he  seek  for  it.  Vainly  did  he 
wade  up  and  down,  and  dive  beneath  the  surface,  groping 
with  hands  and  feet  upon  the  slippery  bottom.  From 
an  overnanging  tree  he  broke  a  forked  branch,  and 
with  it  raked  and  dredged  with  fruitless  care  the  river 
from  shore  to  shore.  No  helmet  could  he  find.  He 
was  about  to  give  up  the  search,  when  a  strange  figur« 
seemed  to  rise  up  in  the  water  before  him.  The  fierce 
Moor  had  never  known  such  thing  as  fear.  In  the 
dreadful  din  of  battle,  with  death  before  him  and  threat- 
ening foes  on  every  side,  he  had  never  shrunk  from 
danger.  But  now,  at  sight  of  that  mysterious  figure, 
he  trembled  in  every  limb,  and  the  hair  on  his  uncov- 
ered head  stood  out  like  the  bristles  tf  a  porcupine. 
Never  was  knight  so  utterly  horrified.  It  was  a  dim 
white  figure  that  rose  up  silentlv  before  th^  Moor. 


How  Roland  fell  into  Prison.  259 

the  light  mist  which  sometimes  hangs  over  river  and 
racadow  in  the  early  morning  twilight.  But  its  shape 
was  that  of  a  man,  —  of  a  warrior  in  white  armor,  his 
head  uncovered,  his  face  beaming  in  the  uncertain  light 
of  evening,  his  right  arm  uplifted  as  if  to  threaten  or 
to  warn.  To  Ferrau  this  ghostly  shape  was  none  other 
than  the  spirit  of  Argalia,  the  Prince  of  Cathay,  whom 
he  had  foully  slain  in  the  wood  of  Ardennes.  He  tried 
to  fly  from  the  spot ;  but  his  feet  were  rooted  to  the 
ground,  and  the  cold  waters  of  the  river  seemed  to 
hem  him  in,  and  hold  him  there.  Then  he  saw  that 
the  figure  held  in  its  left  hand  the  helmet  which  he 
had  been  seeking,  —  Argalia's  helmet,  —  dripping  with 
water,  and  glittering  brightly  in  the  light  of  the  rising 
moon. 

"  Foul  traitor ! '  said  the  ghost,  "  this  helmet  is  none 
of  thine,  and  nevermore  shall  it  incase  thy  brutish 
head.  If  helmet  thou  wouldst  have,  go  win  it !  Win 
Reinold's,  or  the  matchless  Roland's.  Argalia  will 
have  his  own." 

Then  the  figure  slowly  melted  away  in  the  moon- 
ight.  And  Ferrau  found  himself  standing  on  the 
shore,  his  teeth  chattering  from  terror,  and  his  limbs 
aunib  with  cold.  It  might  have  been  merely  a  horrid 
dream,  —  this  vision  of  the  slain  Argalia,  —  yet  the 
fierce  Ferrau  did  not  think  so.  He  verily  believed  that 
he  had  seen  a  ghost  And  as  he  mounted  his  steed, 
and  rode  away  from  the  scene  of  his  fright,  he  vowed 
that  nevermore  should  laelmet  touch  his  head  until 


260  The  Story  of  Roland. 

he  had  won,  by  fair  means  or  by  foul,  the  matchless 
casque  of  Roland. 

In  the  mean  while  Roland,  returning  from  Ireland, 
was  riding  leisurely  toward  Paris.  He  had  not  yet 
heard  of  the  Saracen  invasion,  and  he  knew  not  how 
greatly  his  presence  was  needed  in  the  South.  But 
messengers  from  Charlemagne  met  him  on  the  road, 
and  told  him  how  the  Saracens  had  landed  on  the 
southern  coasts,  and  how,  in  the  late  battle,  the  French 
had  been  sorely  defeated.  "  My  warriors  are  altogether 
disheartened,"  was  the  word  they  brought  from  Charle- 
magne. "They  will  not  fight  unless  Roland  leads 
them  against  the  foe." 

So  Roland  hurried  forward  with  all  haste  to  join  the 
king.  He  stopped  but  an  hour  at  Paris  to  see  his 
mother,  the  Princess  Bertha,  and  then,  without  further 
delay,  he  gave  spur  to  Brigliadoro,  and  rode  straight 
onward  toward  the  Pyrenees.  Not  once  during  the 
day  did  he  leave  his  saddle ;  and  at  night,  whether  he 
reposed  in  the  castle  of  some  friendly  baron,  or  whether 
he  lay  down  to  sleep  in  some  lonely  wood,  he  never  re- 
moved his  armor.  And  the  good  people  along  his  route 
came  out  and  blessed  him,  "Now  will  the  arms  of 
Charlemagne  prevail,"  said  they;  "for  Roland  rides  to 
the  rescue."  And  many  who  through  fear  had  fied 
from  their  homes  took  fresh  heart  when  they  saw  the 
gallant  hero ;  and  they  turned  back  again,  resolved  to 
fight  bravely  for  their  country  so  long  as  their  lives 
were  sparer! 


How  Roland  fell  into  Prison.  261 

One  day,  as  Roland  was  crossing  a  plain  at  the  foot 
of  a  range  of  mountains,  an  unexpected  sight  met  his 
view.  High  up  on  the  top  of  a  steep  mountain  crag, 
seemingly  among  the  clouds,  he  saw  a  beautiful  and 
strangely  built  castle.  The  battlements  and  toweri 
gleamed  in  the  sunlight  like  burnished  steel,  and  it 
seemed  hardly  possible  that  any  creature  without  wings 
could  scale  the  steep  heights  upon  which  the  airy 
fortress  was  built.  As  our  hero  paused,  and  admired 
the  strange  structure,  and  wondered  by  what  pathway 
it  might  be  reached,  he  fancied  that  he  heard  a  cry  of 
distress  near  at  hand.  He  spurred  his  horse  forward 
toward  the  place  whence  the  sound  came,  and  was  sur- 
prised to  see  an  armed  knight  riding  leisurely  across 
the  plain  in  the  direction  of  the  castle.  Before  him, 
lying  across  the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  the  knight  held 
a  captive  maiden,  who  struggled  and  wept,  and  called 
out  loudly  for  help.  The  cries  of  helpless  innocence 
never  fell  in  vain  on  Roland's  ears ;  and,  no  matter 
whether  they  came  from  the  lips  of  a  princess  or  those 
of  a  peasant,  he  was  equally  quick  and  ready  to  rush  to 
the  rescue.  He  gave  spurs  to  Brigliadoro,  and  galloped 
nearer,  The  maiden  was  very  beautiful ;  and  the  rich 
clothing  and  the  jewels  which  she  wore  showed  that 
she  was  a  lady  of  no  mean  birth.  He  fancied  that  she 
looked  strangely  like  Angelica,  the  Princess  of  Cathay. 
He  called  to  the  felon  knight  who  carried  her,  and  bade 
him  stop.  But  the  more  he  called,  the  faster  did  the 
stranger  urge  onward  his  steed.  Swiftlv  across  the 


262  The  Story  of  Roland. 

plain  flew  Brigliadoro  in  pursuit ;  but  the  knight  held 
on  his  way,  and  was  not  to  be  overtaken. 

Up  the  steep  mountain  side,  along  pathways  narrow 
and  rough,  pursued  and  pursuer  climbed;  and,  ere  he  was 
aware,  Roland  found  himself  inside  the  narrow  court- 
yard of  the  castle.  The  place  was  one  of  rare  richness 
and  beauty,  and  more  like  the  palaces  of  the  Far  East 
than  the  warlike  fortresses  of  the  Goths  and  Franks. 
The  walls  were  built  of  granite,  the  yard  was  paved 
with  marble,  the  great  gate  was  of  gold,  and  the  doors 
were  of  steel  inlaid  with  ivory :  the  towers  and  battle- 
ments were  plated  with  polished  steel.  A  very  magi- 
cian's castle  it  was,  perched  on  the  topmost  crag  of  the 
mountain,  and  almost  seeming  to  hang  suspended  in 
the  air.  At  the  door  of  the  great  hall,  the  knight  dis- 
mounted ;  and,  leaving  Brigliadoro  behind,  he  stalked 
boldly  into  the  inmost  palace,  still  intent  on  finding  the 
felon  knight,  and  setting  his  fair  captive  free.  Through 
hallway  and  chamber  and  spacious  kitchen  he  passed, 
calling  loudly,  but  receiving  no  answer  save  the  hollow 
echoes  of  his  own  voice.  Then  to  the  upper  rooms  he 
climbed,  and  to  every  chamber  and  balcony  he  went. 

Rich  and  fair  were  all  the  appointments  in  this 
stronghold.  The  ceilings  were  high  and  bright;  the 
walls  were  hung  with  richest  curtains,  and  adorned 
with  finest  tapestry;  the  floors  were  hidden  beneath 
soft  carpets  such  as  were  known  only  in  Persia  and  in 
the  remotest  lands  of  the  Saracens ;  the  beds  were  of 
the  softest  down,  and  curtained  with  cloth-of-gold  and  thf 


How  Roland  fell  into  Prison.  263 

rarest  blue  silk.     Yet  Roland  stopped  not  to  admire  this 
richness  and  beauty.     He  climbed  to  the  tops  of  tht 
towers,  he  went  down  into  the  cellars,  and  even  intc 
the   dungeons   beneath   the   prison  tower ;    but   not  « 
human  being  did  he  see  or  hear.     He  wondered  why  * 
palace  so  richly  furnished  should  be  empty  of  inhabit 
ants.     It  angered  him  to  think  that  those  who  lived  in 
the  castle  were  doubtless  skulking  slily  in  some  secret 
hiding-place,  and  watching  every   movement   that    he 
made.     He  called  out  again,  more  loudly  than  before ; 
he  challenged,  he  threatened :   yet  no   one   answered 
At  last,  finding  that  the  search  was  a  vain  one,  he 
went  again  into    the   courtyard,  and   remounted    Brig- 
Hadoro.     He   would   give   up   this   useless   quest,   and 
hasten  to  continue  his  journey.     What  was  his  surprise 
and  anger  to  find  the  great  gates  closed  and  barred ! 
Furiously    he    shook   them,    calling    to    the    porter   to 
unfasten  them  and  let  him  go.     Still  not  a  man  could 
he  see  or  hear.     Finally  he  again  dismounted,  and  went 
by  another  way  into  the  palace,     He  fancied  that  he 
heard  the  sound  of  voices.     He  looked  into  the  ban 
quet  room,  and  there,  seated  at  the  table,  were  a  scoi 
of   armed  knights,  loudly  talking  while  they  feasted 
He   found    upon  inquiry  that  they,   like   himself,   had 
been  entrapped  in  this  strange  place ;  and  none  of  them 
knew  who  was  lord  of  the  castle,   or  where  he  had  hid- 
den himself.     Yet  all  had  some  charge  of  villany  to  pre 
fer  against  their  unknown  host     One  complained  that 
he  had  stolen  his  steed ;  another,  that  he  had  treacher 


264  The  Story  of  Roland. 

ously  taken  his  arms ;  another,  that  he  had  imprisoned 
a  near  and  dear  friend,  or  carried  away  his  lady-love. 
AU  were  raging  with  anger  and  disappointment ;  and 
all  were  equally  resolved  to  punish  the  offender  most 
unmercifully,  should  they  ever  be  able  to  find  him 
Among  these  knights  were  some  of  the  bravest 
Saracen  chiefs,  -  -  fierce  Ferrau  the  Spanish  Moor, 
Sacripant  the  Circassian  king,  Gradasso  the  king  oi 
Sericane,  and  a  noble  Moorish  youth  named  Roger. 
But  such  was  the  witchery  of  the  magician  who  had 
entrapped  them  in  this  cage,  that  these  warriors  did 
not  know  each  other,  nor  did  they  care  to  know.  They 
only  thought  of  the  vile  deception  which  had  led  them 
there,  and  joined  in  forming  plans  to  escape.  Then, 
when  their  anger  began  to  cool,  they  wisely  concluded 
to  make  the  best  of  their  strange  imprisonment,  hoping 
that  it  would  not  last  long.  They  amused  themselves 
at  quiet  games  in  the  hall ;  they  listened  to  sweet 
strains  of  music  played  by  unseen  hands ;  they  engaged 
in  manly  feats  of  arms  in  the  narrow  courtyard ;  they 
sat  at  table  in  the  banquet  hall,  and  feasted  on  choice 
viands  brought  to  them  by  speechless  attendants.  Yet 
they  never  laid  off  their  armor,  nor  put  aside  their 
arms.  And  their  steeds  stood  always  in  the  stables, 
saddled  and  bridled,  and  ready,  on  a  moment's  notice> 
to  be  mounted  and  ridden  away. 

Day  after  day  passed  by,  and,  for  aught  they  knew, 

veeks  and  months,  and  the  captive  knights  found  no 

leans   by   which   they   could   break   away  from    their 


How  Roland  fell  into  Prison.  265 

enchanted  prison.  Nor  could  they  have  escaped  at  all, 
had  not  help  come  to  them  from  without.  And  now, 
that  we  may  learn  how  this  help  was  brought,  we  must 
leave  them  for  a  while,  and  visit  other  scenes,  and  be- 
come acquainted  with  personages  whom  we  have  not 
yet  met. 


266  The  Story  of  Roland. 


ADVENTURE  XXI L 


BRADAMANT  THE   WARRIOR   MAIDEN. 

THE  Princess  Angelica,  frightened  at  sight  of  the 
fierce  Moor  wading  in  the  river  and  searching  for  his 
lost  helmet,  fled  through  the  forest  as  fast  as  her  poor 
palfrey  could  carry  her.  Ah,  how  she  wished  now  for 
the  magic  ring  which  had  so  often  befriended  and  saved 
her !  With  its  aid  she  might  have  bidden  defiance  to 
danger,  and  flown  safely  and  quickly  back  to  Cathay. 
But,  having  it  not,  she  was  fain  perforce  to  fare  like 
other  folk,  and  plod  painfully  and  slowly,  on  foot  or  on 
horseback,  from  one  place  to  another.  Yet  whither 
now  should  she  go?  That  was  a  question  which  she 
could  not  answer.  It  seemed  to  her  that  all  men  were 
her  foes,  and  her  chief  thought  was  to  keep  safely  out 
of  sight  of  every  one.  For  a  day  and  a  night,  and  half 
the  following  day,  she  wandered  through  dark  and 
dreary  woods,  or  across  barren  and  lonely  moorlands, 
shrinking  from  every  sound,  and  affrighted  even  by  the 
rustling  of  the  leaves. 

At  about  noon  on  the  second  day,  the  princess  found 
herself  so  wearied  with  her  long  flight,  and  so  overcome 


Bradamant  the   Warrior  Maiden.        267 

by  the  heat,  that  she  could  go  no  farther.  She  was 
close  to  a  thicket  of  flowering  hawthorns  and  wild-rose 
bushes,  overshadowed  bv  tall  oak  trees.  So  cool  and 

j 

secluded  was  the  place,  that  it  seemed  to  invite  her  to 
stop  and  rest.  Down  from  the  saddle  she  sprang  among 
the  untrodden  flowers  ;  and  she  gently  removed  the  bri 
die  from  her  faithful  palfrey's  head,  and  turned  him 
loose  to  graze  along  the  river's  bank.  Then,  within  the 
thicket,  she  found  a  pleasant  bower,  where  the  leaves 
and  twigs  were  so  interlaced  that  the  light  of  day  could 
scarcely  struggle  through ;  and  there,  on  a  bed  of  moss 
and  flowers,  the  over-wearied  maiden  sank  down  and 
sought  repose.  On  either  side  of  the  thicket  a  brook- 
let strayed,  singing  a  pleasant  lullaby  as  it  murmured 
over  the  pebbles ;  and  the  gentle  zephyr  stole  through 
the  leaves  and  branches,  and  lovingly  kissed  the  maid- 
en's cheek,  and  told  her  of  happier  and  more  peaceful 
climes.  Scarcely  had  she  touched  her  woodland  couch, 
when  her  eyes  closed  in  slumber ;  and  she  forgot  her 
terror  and  her  flight  and  her  great  weariness,  and 
dreamed  only  of  her  palace  home  in  the  sunrise  land 
of  Cathay. 

How  long  the  princess  slept,  I  cannot  tell.  But 
when  she  awoke,  she  fancied  that  she  heard  the  tramp 
of  a  horse  not  far  from  her  resting  place.  It  was  not 
the  light  tread  of  her  palfrey,  but  sounded  more  like 
the  heavy  step  of  a  war  steed.  She  arose  softly,  and 
peeped  out  through  the  leaves  and  branches.  An 
armed  knight  sat  by  the  river's  bank,  while  his  steed 


268  The  Story  of  Roland, 

L       j, II  ' 1 «^HHB«M«M«B      «•* 

stood  cropping  the  grass  close  by.  In  doleful  mood 
seemed  this  knight;  his  head  was  resting  upon  his 
hand  ;  his  eyes  were  downcast  and  sad.  Long  time  sat 
he  there,  silent  and  thoughtful ;  and  then  he  began  to 
bewail  some  cruel  mishap  that  had  overtaken  him. 

"  Ah,  me  I "  cried  he.  "  How  false  and  cruel  is  for- 
tune !  What  avails  the  victory  that  we  have  won,  when 
the  hopes  which  were  nearest  my  heart  have  corne  to 
naught  ?  Better  would  it  have  been,  had  I  died  on  the 
field  of  battle." 

Angelica,  in  her  safe  hiding-place,  heard  the  knight's 
piteous  plaint.  She  fancied  that  she  knew  that  voice : 
she  had  certainly  heard  it  before.  She  longed  to  see 
the  face  of  the  speaker.  A  dry  twig  snapped  under 
her  feet:  the  knight,  in  alarm,  sprang  up  and  looked 
around.  It  was  indeed  he:  it  was  Sacripant  the  Cir- 
cassian king,  her  father's  friend  and  her  own.  It  was 
for  her  sake  that  he  had  come  from  the  Far  East,  and 
joined  himself  to  the  foes  of  France  and  Christendom  ; 
and  it  was  for  her  sake  that  he  had  fought  so  valiantly 
in  the  late  battle.  For  he  hoped,  that,  by  thus  proving 
his  valor  as  a  warrior,  the  heart  of  the  maiden  would 
be  kindly  inclined  toward  him.  But  now,  after  the 
battle  had  been  fought  and  won,  he  could  hear  no  tid- 
ings of  Angelica,  and  it  had  been  whispered  tnat  she 
had  returned  alone  to  Cathay.  And  the  sorrowful  king 
moaned,  and  beat  his  breast,  and  bewailed  that  he  had 
ever  been  born. 

The  princess  heard  the  words  of  the  dolorous  knight, 


Bradamani  the   Warrior  Maiden.        269 

and  was  not  slow  to  learn  the  cause  of  his  grief.  But 
her  heart  was  still  her  own,  and  she  felt  neither  love 
nor  pity  for  him.  Yet  she  was  sadly  in  need  of  a 
friend ;  and  she  knew  that  Sacripant,  with  all  his  faults, 
would  prove  kind  and  true.  She  resolved,  therefore,  to 
make  herself  known  to  him.  So,  softly  as  the  summer's 
breeze  in  the  meadows,  she  stepped  from  her  hiding- 
place  ;  and,  radiant  with  mingled  smiles  and  tears,  she 
glided  to  the  place  where  he  sat 

"  God  bless  you  ! '  said  she,  laying  her  white  hand  on 
his  shoulder ;  "and  may  he  put  all  troublesome  thoughts 
out  of  your  mind." 

Never  was  brave  knight  so  wonder-stricken.  Fie 
could  scarcely  believe  that  it  was  indeed  Angelica  who 
stood  thus  unexpectedly  before  him :  he  thought  that  it 
was  her  spirit,  or  that  some  cunning  wizard  was  deceiv- 
ing him.  But  when  she  spoke  to  him  again,  and  called 
him  by  name,  his  doubts  vanished,  and  he  welcomed  her 
most  joyfully.  Then  the  two  sat  down  together  on  the 
grassy  bank,  and  talked  of  plans  for  the  future ;  and 
they  resolved  that  they  would  forever  quit  the  land  of 
France,  where  both  had  met  with  only  disappointments, 
and  together  hasten  back  to  Cathay. 

While  they  were  yet  talking,  a  noise  was  heard  in  the 
wood  close  by,  —  the  sound  of  tramping  feet  and  clang 
ing  armor.  Sacripant,  not  knowing  whether  it  was  a 
friend  or  a  foe,  at  once  donned  his  helmet,  mounted  his 
steed,  and  placed  his  lance  in  rest.  A  single  knight, 
clad  in  steel,  came  threading  his  way  through  the 


270  The  Story  of  Roland. 

wood.  He  wore  over  his  armor  a  snow-white  mantle 
bordered  with  ermine ;  above  his  helmet  there  waved  a 
large  white  plume;  and  the  steed  which  he  rode  was 
the  color  of  milk.  His  shield,  too,  was  white,  and  OB 
it  were  emblazoned  the  arms  of  Montalban.  Whec 
Sacripant  saw  that  it  was  a  Christian  who  approached 
he  challenged  him  at  once  to  engage  in  deadly  combat 
The  stranger  was  no  whit  alarmed  by  the  overbearing 
mood  and  tone  of  the  Circassian.  He  said  not  a  word 
in  answer,  but  quietly  laid  his  lance  in  rest,  and  made 
ready  for  the  onset.  Both  knights  struck  spurs  at  the 
same  moment,  and,  with  the  fury  of  untamed  lionsr 
rushed  toward  each  other.  The  lances  of  both  were 
broken  in  twain ;  and,  as  each  struck  the  other,  the 
earth  seemed  to  tremble  beneath  them,  and  the  woods 
and  hills  rang  with  the  sound.  The  Circassian's  horse 
fill  dead  upon  the  ground;  and  the  White  Knight's 
steed  was  brought  to  its  knees.  Sacripant  was  so  en- 
tangled in  the  trappings  of  his  horse,  and  so  weighted 
down  with  his  armor,  that  it  was  some  time  before  he 
could  gain  his  feet  But  the  stranger,  deeming  that 
he  had  done  enough  for  his  own  honor's  sake,  touched 
his  horse  gently  with  the  spur,  and  rode  carelessly  away. 
Not  a  word  did  he  say,  nor  did  he  glance  once  back  to 
the  place  where  the  discomfited  Pagan  lay. 

With  troubled  face,  and  many  half-smothered  curses, 
the  Circassian  arose  from  the  ground.  He  cared  not 
so  much  for  the  bruises  which  he  had  gotten  by  the 
fall,  as  for  the  disgrace  of  being  thus  unhorsed  in 


Bradamant  the   Warrior  Maiden.        271 

presence  of  the  princess.  But  Angelica,  as  if  scarce)}? 
noticing  his  mishap,  consoled  and  cheered  him  with 
kind,  courageous  words. 

"Surely,  sir  knight,"  said  she,  "it  was  not  youi 
fault  that  you  tumbled  upon  the  grass,  but  rather  that 
of  the  awkward  beast  who  lies  dead  at  your  feet 
Come,  my  lord,  cheer  up,  and  let  us  out  of  the  wood, 
and  away  to  dear  Cathay  ! ' 

While  she  was  speaking,  a  messenger  mounted  on  a 
fleet  horse,  and  bearing  pouch  and  horn,  rode  toward 
them.  Both  man  and  beast  were  covered  with  dust, 
and  seemed  weary  with  long  travel. 

"  Kind  sir,"  said  the  messenger  to  the  Circassian, 
"  have  you  lately  seen  a  warrior  pass  this  way,  bearing 
a  white  shield,  and  riding  a  milk-white  steed  ? ' 

"Indeed,"  said  Sacripant,  "I  have  seen  him  to  my 
sorrow.  It  was  such  a  knight  who  but  a  few  minutes 
ago  threw  me  headlong  into  the  grass,  and  then  went 
proudly  on  his  way.  Tell  me  his  name,  I  pray  thee, 
that  I  may  remember  him  another  day." 

"  Willingly  will  I  tell  you,"  answered  the  rider ;  "  for 
you  will  be  proud  to  know  that  you  have  been  defeated 
by  no  common  warrior.  The  knight  with  the  white 
shield  is  none  other  than  Bradamant  the  warrior 
maiden,  the  fair  sister  of  Reinold  of  Montalban."  And 
with  these  words  and  a  laugh  of  derision,  the  man  put 
spurs  to  his  jaded  horse,  and  hastened  on  his  way,  leav- 
ing the  Circassian  chief  but  little  pleased  with  his  news. 
Angry,  ashamed,  and  disheartened,  Sacripant  mounted 


272  The  Story  of  Roland. 

the  palfrey  of  Angelica;  and,  taking  that  princess  up 
behind  him,  the  two  rode  silently  away  through  the 
wood. 

The  White  Knight,  who,  as  we  have  learned,  was 
Bradamant  the  warrior  maiden,  kept  steadily  on  her 
way  until  she  came  to  a  road  which  wound  round  the 
base  of  a  steep  mountain.  Here  was  a  very  pleasant 
place,  overshadowed  with  oaks  and  twining  vines,  and 
looking  out  upon  the  quiet  green  orchards  and  vine- 
yards in  the  valley  below.  A  fountain  of  water,  clear 
and  cold,  gushed  out  from  among  the  rocks  ;  and  Brada- 
mant dismounted  to  drink.  But,  just  as  she  was  rais 
ing  her  helmet,  she  saw  a  stranger  sitting  in  the  shade 
close  by.  He  seemed  to  be  a  knight,  young,  sad-eyed, 
and  melancholy ;  and  the  shallow  smile  which  played 
about  his  lips  betrayed  his  kinship  to  the  house  of 
Ganelon  of  Mayence.  His  horse  was  tethered,  not  far 
away,  to  the  low-hanging  branches  of  a  beech ;  and  his 
shield  and  helmet  were  cast  carelessly  upon  the  ground 
at  his  feet.  Curious  to  know  the  cause  of  the  stran 
ger's  sadness,  Bradamant  kindly  asked  him  what  mis- 
hap had  brought  those  tears  into  his  eyes,  that  look  of 
woe  into  his  face. 

"  Fair  sir,"  said  the  sorrowful  knight,  "  my  name  is 
Pinabel.  I  loved  a  maiden  fairer  than  dream  can  pic 
ture,  gentler  than  words  can  describe.  And  she,  I  am 
sure,  thought  well  of  me.  One  day,  as  we  sauntered 
happily  along  the  banks  of  the  Rhone,  a  strange  shad- 
ow crossed  our  path.  We  looked  up ;  and  to  our  great 


Br adamant  the   Warrior  Maiden.        273 

amazement  we  saw  a  winged  horse  —  yes,  a  winged 
horse  —  circling  like  an  eagle  high  in  the  air  above  us. 
Round  and  round  he  soared,  now  rising  among  the 
clouds,  now  sinking  to  a  level  with  the  treetops,  and 
seeming  merely  to  amuse  himself.  Then  all  at  once, 
like  a  falcon  let  loose  from  the  wrist,  or  an  arrow  shot 
from  the  bow,  he  darted  down  upon  us.  Before  I 
could  cry  out,  or  hinder,  he  had  seized  the  maiden  in 
his  talons,  and  was  bearing  her  away  to  his  mountain 
eyry.  Vain  was  it  to  try  to  save  her.  He  carried  her 
over  the  dark  and  barren  valleys,  and  the  rough  hill- 
country  of  the  Pyrenees.  There,  in  the  midst  of  the 
caverned  mountains,  is  a  fair  and  wondrous  castle 
planted  on  the  top  of  a  craggy  rock,  and  shining  in  the 
sunlight  like  a  beacon  fire.  Men  say  that  it  was  built 
by  a  mountain  sprite,  and  that  a  Moorish  magician 
keeps  it,  and  that  the  winged  horse  is  but  a  servant 
who  does  his  bidding.  All  round  are  horrid  cliffs,  and 
giddy  precipices,  and  dark  gorges,  and  roaring  torrents  ; 
nor  can  one  find  the  least  sign  or  trace  of  a  pathway 
to  this  robber's  nest.  It  was  thither  that  the  winged 
steed  carried  the  hapless  maidea." 

**But  followed  you  not  the  monster  to  his  den?" 
asked  Bradamant. 

"  I  did,"  answered  Pinabel.  "  But  of  what  avail  is  it 
to  contend  with  a  sorcerer?  Six  days  I  rode  around 
the  mountain,  eying  the  prison  towers,  to  which  no 
wingless  creature  ever  climbed,  and  daring  their  wizard 
lord  to  meet  me  in  combat  on  the  plain.  But  the  rob- 


274  The  Story  of  Roland. 

^  T ._-       —     — _-   __  _  -  _-._  .      -   -  -  •  —  •  •  —     ••• •  •      •       ••'  • 

her  staid  close  in  his  mountain  keep,  and  sallied  not 
forth  at  my  call.  Then  there  came  one  day  into  the 
valley  two  noble  knights,  who,  like  me,  had  been  bereft 
of  that  which  they  held  most  dear.  One  was  Gradasso, 
the  Pagan  king  of  Sericane ;  and  the  other  looked 
strangely  like  Roger,  the  pride  of  the  Moorish  court. 
Boldly  they  rode  across  the  plain,  and  halted  not  until 
they  reached  the  foot  of  the  tall  cliffs.  Then  Gradasso 
blew  his  bugle  until  the  whole  valley  rang,  and  the 
rocks  and  crags  seemed  to  tremble  with  the  sound. 
And  soon  afterward  I  saw  the  winged  horse,  with  the 
wizard  on  his  back,  leap  from  the  steel-bright  tower 
above.  Upward,  at  first,  he  sprang,  and  higher  and 
higher  he  soared,  until  he  seemed  a  mere  speck  in  the 
sky.  Then,  like  a  well-trained  falcon,  he  shot  straight 
down  upon  his  prey.  I  heard  a  swooping,  whizzing 
sound  in  the  air  above  me.  I  closed  my  eyes,  and  fell 
to  the  earth ;  for  I  dared  not  look  upon  so  fearful  a 
combat.  When  at  length  all  was  quiet  again,  I  raised 
my  eyes,  and  saw  the  wizard  seated  on  his  steed,  and 
holding  a  prisoner  in  either  hand,  calmly  returning  to 
Ms  castle  home." 

Bradamant  listened  with  great  interest  to  Pinabel's 
story,  and  she  besought  him  to  lead  her  to  the  place 
where  this  wonderful  castle  stood.  She  would  give 
battle  to  the  wizard,  she  said ;  she  would  free  the  pris- 
oners whom  he  held  in  durance  there;  she  would  re- 
store to  Pinabel  the  maiden  whom  he  had  lost.  The 
sad-eyed  knight  readily  agreed  to  lead  her  to  the  place, 


Br adamant  the  Warrior  Maiden.  275 

—  it  could  be  reached  in  three  or  four  days,-  -but  he 
felt  not  at  all  hopeful  of  the  result. 

"  If  you  wish  to  risk  these  dangers,"  said  he,  "  it 
matters  nothing  to  me.  You  will  challenge  the  cun- 
ning wizard;  he  will  swoop  down  upon  you  ere  you 
can  raise  a  finger;  he  will  take  you  under  his  arm,  and 
carry  you  gently  to  his  prison  house-  Yet  I  am  ready 
to  do  your  bidding." 

Then  the  knight  mounted  his  steed,  and  the  two  rode 
onward  together.  But  the  traitorous  Pinabel  had  noted 
the  arms  of  Montalban  emblazoned  on  the  white  shield 
of  Bradamant,  and  he  began  to  plan  in  his  mind  how 
he  might  betray  and  kill  her.  For  many  a  league  they 
rode,  over  rocky  hills,  and  through  wooded  valleys 
until  the  sun  went  down,  and  darkness  began  to  settle 
around  them. 

"It  would  be  well,"  said  Pinabel,  "to  seek  some 
place  of  shelter  from  the  night,  and  the  storm  which  I 
see  is  brewing.  I  know  of  a  farmer's  cot,  just  over  the 
ridge  of  this  mountain,  where  I  have  often  rested,  and 
found  a  hearty  welcome.  Let  us  ride  to  it  by  the  near- 
est way," 

So  saying,  he  left  the  beaten  road,  and  spurred  his 
horse  up  the  rough  side  of  the  mountain.  He  hoped  to 
lose  the  White  Knight  in  the  thick  wood  which  crowned 
its  top,  or  lead  her  unawares  over  the  side  of  some  high 
precipice.  But  Bradamant  kept  close  behind  him,  and 
foiled  all  his  wicked  plans;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  she 
bad  little  faith  in  this  sad-eyed  kinsman  of  Ganelon 


a  76  The  Story  of  Roland. 

Just  after  passing  the  crest  of  the  mountain,  the  two 
knights  were  surprised  at  seeing  a  light  streaming  up 
as  it  were  from  the  ground,  On  drawing  nearer,  they 
found  that  it  came  from  the  bottom  of  a  well-like  cav- 
ern, —  a  great  cleft  in  the  rock,  —  whose  steep,  smooth 
sides  descended  sheer  twenty  yards  and  more.  Pinabel 
was  the  first  to  dismount  and  look  over  the  edge  of  the 
chasm. 

"  Ah,  me  1 '  cried  he  as  if  in  great  surprise.  "  What 
villany  is  this  I  see  ? ' 

The  warrior  maiden,  eager  to  know  the  meaning  of 
his  words,  leaped  from  her  horse  and  ran  to  look  down 
into  the  cavern.  But  she  saw  nothing  save  the  smooth 
walls  of  polished  rock,  and  a  narrow  door  at  the  bottom, 
through  which  streamed  a  flood  of  light  as  from  a  torch. 
She  asked  Pinabel  what  he  had  seen. 

"I  saw,"  said  he,  "a  most  beautiful  damsel,  clad  in 
the  garb  of  a  princess,  trying  in  vain  to  scale  those  slip- 
pery walls.  And  while  I  looked,  a  fierce  ruffian,  who 
seemed  to  be  her  jailer,  seized  her  rudely,  and  dragged 
her  back  through  the  narrow  door  into  the  inner  cave." 

"If  I  had  any  means  of  reaching  her,  I  would  save 
ber,"  said  Bradamant  earnestly.  "  Ah !  what  would  I 
not  give  for  a  rope,  a  ladder,  some  way  of  getting  down 
to  the  bottom  of  this  well  1 ' 

She  glanced  around  her.  An  elm  tree,  tall  and 
straight,  grew  on  the  brink  of  the  cave.  It  would  be 
but  an  easy  matter  to  make  a  ladder,  she  thought.  So 
with  her  sword  she  cut  down  the  longest,  straightest 


BRADAMANT   AND  PINABEL. 


Bradamant  the   Warrior  Maiden.        277 

branch,  and  shaped  and  trimmed  it  to  suit  her  wishes. 
Yet,  when  she  thrust  this  rudely-made  ladder  into  the 
cave,  she  found  that  it  lacked  several  feet  of  reaching 
the  bottom, 

"  Do  you  hold  on  to  the  upper  end,"  said  she  to  Pina 
bel,  "  and  I  will  climb  down.  I  may  at  least  get  lovs 
enough  to  peep  through  the  door,  and  see  what  is  going 
on  in  the  inner  cave." 

The  treacherous  fellow  seemed  very  willing  to  do  her 
bidding ;  but  she  had  not  climbed  far  when  he  suddenly 
let  go  of  the  branch,  and  plunged  the  helpless  Brada- 
mant down  to  the  bottom  of  the  great  well.  Had  not 
the  stout  elm  branch  broken  her  fall,  the  warrior  maiden 
would  have  been  killed  outright.  As  it  was,  she  lay 
for  some  time,  stunned  and  helpless,  upon  the  hard 
stone  floor ;  while  the  wretched  Pinabel,  chuckling  with 
delight,  mounted  his  steed  and  rode  away. 

"  Only  too  gladly,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  would  I  hurl 
Reinold  and  all  his  kin  of  Montalban  down  into  the 
same  deep  grave." 

When  Bradamant  recovered  her  senses  and  arose, 
she  saw  that  the  door  which  led  into  the  inner  cave 
was  still  open ;  and  the  bright  light  which  she  had  seen 
from  above  now  shone  full  into  her  face.  Without  fear 
or  hesitation,  she  passed  boldly  through  the  narrow 
entrance-way,  and  came  soon  into  a  large,  well-lighted 
chamber.  This  place  seemed  to  be  an  underground 
temple,  roomy  and  square,  with  vaulted  roof  upheld  by 
6 u ted  columns  of  marble  and  alabaster.  In  front  o* 


278  The  Story  of  Roland. 

the  central  altar  was  a  large  lamp,  whose  clear-burning 
flame  lighted  up  all  the  space  around,  and  shone  through 
the  passageway  and  the  door  into  the  well-like  entrance 
beyond.  The  warrior  maiden,  in  thankfulness  for  her 
delivery  from  death,  and  touched  by  the  softening 
influences  of  the  place,  knelt  before  the  altar  and 
prayed.  But,  ere  the  prayer  was  finished,  a  secret 
wicket  in  the  wall  opened  silently,  and  a  weird  woman, 
barefooted,  and  with  dishevelled  hair,  entered  the 
room. 

"  Ah,  Bradamant,"  said  she,  "  you  have  come  at  last ! 
Long  have  we  waited  for  you,  yet  we  knew  that  you 
would  not  fail  us." 

"  Where  am  I  ? '  asked  Bradamant,  rising.  "  And 
who  are  you,  who  seem  to  know  me  so  well  ? ' 

"  My  name  is  Melissa,"  answered  the  woman.  "  Men 
sometimes  call  me  Melissa  the  witch.  The  temple  in 
which  you  are  was  built  by  Merlin,  the  great  wizard 
in  the  days  of  King  Arthur.  You  have  heard  how  he 
was  outwitted  by  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  and  how  he 
laid  himself  down  in  a  cavern  cell,  and  could  never  rise 
again  ?  This  is  the  cavern.  And  in  the  innermost 
chamoer  he  still  lies,  not  dead;  but  sleeping;  and  his 
voice  still  foretells  the  doom  of  those  who  come  to  con- 
suit  him.  Wouldst  thou  see  the  place  where  lies  this 
ancient  seer?  Come  with  me." 

Then  the  weird  woman  led  Bradanmnt  through  ? 
long,  dark  passageway,  to  the  chamber  in  which  the 
>.ac,e  Merlin  reposed.  The  bed,  or  tomb,  in  which  h? 


Br adamant  the   Warrior  Maiden.        279 

lay,  was  built  of  marble  and  red  jasper  and  many  pre 
cious  stones,  and  shone  like  a  sunbeam  in  the  darkness 
And  the  room  was  paved  with  rich  gems ;   the  ceil- 
ing was  covered  with  gold ;  the  walls  were  hung  with 
the  rarest  tapestry.     Bradamant  trembled  with  awe  as 
she  gazed  around  upon  this  strange  scene.     She  won 
dered  why  it  was  that  the  Fates,  against  whose  decrees 
no  man  may  struggle,  had  brought  her  hither.     She 
wondered  if  it  were  true  that  Merlin  still  lived,  and  if 
he  would  vouchsafe  to  tell  what  fortunes  were  held  in 
store  for  her.     She  was  about  to  speak,  when  a  voice 
solemn  and  grand  was  heard,  coming  as  it  were  from 
the  tomb. 

"  Brave  warrior  maiden,"  said  the  voice,  "  may  all  thy 
dearest  wishes  have  fulfilment ! ' 

And  long  the  wizard  talked  with  her,  urging  her  not 
to  give  up  the  undertaking  she  had  begun.  And  he 
promised  her  that  in  the  end  she  should  be  the  most 
favored  of  women,  the  mother  of  kings  and  heroes  as 
noble  as  those  of  ancient  Rome. 

Then  Melissa  led  the  warrior  maiden  back  into  the 
chapel ;  and  the  two  sat  down,  and  talked  long  hours 
together  concerning  the  deeds  of  the  past  and  the  things 
which  were  still  to  betide.  And  the  weird  woman  said, 
•'If  thou  art  still  intent  on  the  quest  of  the  winged 
horse  and  his  master,  and  the  steel-bright  mountain 
fortress  where  they  dwell,  it  were  well  that  thou  shouldst 
know  their  history."  And  then  she  told  this  story  to 
Bradamant. 


280  The  Story  of  Roland. 


THE   STORY. 

In  the  first  place,  you  must  know  that  old  Atlantes, 
the  wizard  who  built  the  fortress  of  which  we  are  speak- 
ing, is  one  of  the  most  knowing  of  sorcerers,  and  that 
he  has  a  nephew  named  Roger,  who  is  the  bravest  and 
noblest  of  the  Moorish  princes.  Years  ago,  when 
Roger  was  but  a  child,  the  old  wizard  opened  the  book 
of  fate,  and  read,  much  to  his  sorrow,  that  the  boy  was 
destined  in  early  manhood  to  leave  his  home  and  his 
kindred,  and  the  friends  who  had  cherished  him,  and 
ally  himself  with  their  Christian  foes.  Then  Atlantes 
began  to  plan  how  he  might  fight  against  the  Fates. 
And  by  his  magic  arts  he  built  in  a  day  and  a  night 
that  mountain  stronghold  ;  and  he  adorned  it  with  ever}' 
thing  that  is  pleasant  or  beautiful,  and  placed  in  it  every 
thing  that  would  amuse  the  young  prince  whose  prison 
home  it  was  to  be.  And  he  brought  wise  men  from 
foreign  lands  to  teach  the  boy,  and  minstrels  from 
north  and  south  to  while  away  the  tedious  hours  with 
music.  And,  as  Roger  grew  into  young  manhood,  the 
bravest  knights  and  the  fairest  ladies  were  enticed  into 
the  castle,  and  there  imprisoned  to  keep  him  company, 
w  His  life,"  said  the  old  wizard,  "  shall  be  as  pleasant 
and  as  gay  as  it  is  possible  for  the  life  of  a  prisoner  to 
be.  But,  whatever  the  Fates  may  say,  he  shall  not 
leave  his  kin,  nor  shall  he  become  a  Christian." 

At  about  this  time  Agramant,  the  king  of  Africa, 
bega "\  to  think  of  invading  France.  Very  bitter  did  he 


Br adamant  the   Warrior  Maiden.        281 

feel  toward  Charlemagne  for  wrongs  which  his  people 
had  suffered ;  very  greatly  did  he  covet  the  vine-clad 
hills  of  Gascony.  He  called  his  wise  men  around  him, 
and  they  discussed  their  plans  together. 

"There  is  but  one  way  by  which  you  can  succeed 
against  the  French,"  said  the  oldest  of  his  counsellors. 
"  You  must  enlist  under  your  banner  young  Roger,  the 
Prince  of  Morocco.  He  will  prove  a  host  within  him- 
self ;  and,  without  his  help,  you  will  fail." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  get  him  ? '  asked  Agramant. 
"  You  know  how  zealously  his  old  uncle  guards  him  in 
his  steel-clad  castle  among  the  Pyrenees.  No  one  can 
go  in  or  out  of  that  castle ;  and  the  wizard,  with  his 
winged  horse  and  his  magic,  is  as  much  to  be  feared  as 
an  army  of  Christians.  Indeed,  it  would  be  easier  to 
conquer  Charlemagne  single-handed  than  to  take  Roger 

from  his  uncle." 

"  To  do  this,"  said  the  wise  man,  "  you  must  oppose 

magic  with  magic." 

"  You  speak  in  riddles,"  answered  the  king,  "  Explain 
yourself." 

"You  have  heard  of  Angelica,  the  fair  Princess  of 
Cathay  ? '  asked  the  wise  man. 

The  king  nodded. 

"  You  have  doubtless  also  heard  that  she  wears  a 
magic  ring  on  her  finger,  and  that  this  ring,  placed 
between  her  lips,  makes  her  invisible  to  the  sight  of 
men  ? " 

The  king  nodded  again. 


282  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  get  possession  of  that  ring." 

The  king  flew  into  a  great  passion.  "  You  trifle  with 
me ! '  he  cried.  "  You  set  me  a  task,  —  yes,  two  of 
them.  I  ask  you  how  I  am  to  outwit  and  overcome 
Charlemagne.  You  answer  by  telling  me  to  enlist 
Prince  Roger  in  my  army,  and  to  get  possession  of 
Angelica's  ring,  either  of  which  is  harder  than  fight 
ing  all  the  kings  in  Christendom.  Should  I  ask  you 
how  I  am  to  get  the  ring,  you  would  answer  by  telling 
me  to  do  some  other  task  equally  impossible." 

"  Not  so,  great  king,"  was  the  humble  answer.  "  You 
have  here  in  your  court  the  greatest  thief  in  the  world, 
the  dwarf  Brunello.  It  is  well  known  that  you  would 
like  to  rid  yourself  of  him,  and  that  you  would  have 
done  so  long  ago  if  he  had  not  had  a  charmed  lite. 
Send  him  to  Cathay,  and  offer  him,  in  case  he  can  steal 
the  rnagic  ring  for  you,  the  governorship  of  one  of  your 
outlying  provinces.  If  he  fail,  you  will  have  good  rid- 
dance of  him ;  for  he  can  never  come  back.  If  he 
succeed,  it  will  still  be  well ;  for,  being  made  governor, 
he  will  steal  from  his  subjects,  and  not  from  you," 

The  king  was  pleased  with  the  wise  man's  advice, 
and  he  forthwith  sent  Brunello  on  his  mission  to  Cathay, 
He  promised  him,  that,  if  he  came  safely  back  with  the 
ring,  he  should  have  the  rich  province  of  Tingitana  for 
his  own.  Now,  the  dwarf  was  somewhat  of  a  magician 
himself ;  and  he  had  but  little  trouble  in  reaching  Al- 
bracca,  and  stealing  the  ring  from  the  finger  of  the 
princess  while  she  slept.  How  he  made  his  way  back 


Br adamant  the    Warrior  Maiden.        283 


to  the  West  it  matters  but  little  to  us  now.  We  are 
only  concerned  in  knowing  that  at  this  very  moment  he 
is  on  his  way  to  the  Pyrenees  with  the  magic  ring  on 
his  finger,  intent  upon  trying  its  powers  against  the 
wizard  skill  of  Atlantes. 

"And  now,"  said  Melissa  to  Bradamant,  "  if  you 
would  outwit  Atlantes,  and  overthrow  the  magic  castle 
wherein  are  imprisoned  the  bravest  knights  and  the 
fairest  ladies  of  France,  you  must  get  possession  of 
Angelica's  ring  ere  Brunello  has  tested  its  powers." 

"  How  is  that  to  be  done  ? '    asked  Bradamant. 

"To-morrow,"  answered  the  weird  woman,  "  I  will 
lead  you  out  of  this  cavern,  and  show  you  the  road 
which  you  shall  take.  Follow  it  until  you  reach  the 
seashore  and  a  little  inn,  where  you  will  meet  the  dwarf 
Brunello.  You  will  readily  know  him,  for  an  uglier 
little  being  never  called  himself  a  man.  Make  some 
excuse  to  go  with  him  on  his  way,  but  do  not  touch 
him  until  you  are  in  sight  of  the  high  towers  of  the 
wizard's  castle." 

Much  more  did  the  gentle  Melissa  whisper  in  the 
warrior  maiden's  ear;  and  all  night  long  they  sat  in 
that  quiet  cave  temple,  talking  of  the  bright  future,  raid 
the  glorious  possibilities  which  Merlin  had  promised  to 
the  true  and  great-hearted  Bradamant.  And  at  the 
earliest  break  of  day  the  weird  woman  led  her  guest 
through  a  long,  dark  gallery,  out  of  the  cave  temple,  into 
\  narrow  gien  deep  hidden  between  two  mountains 


284  The  Story  of  Roland. 

All  day  they  travelled  on  foot  through  narrow 
gorges,  and  by  the  side  of  roaring  torrents,  and  beneath 
frowning  precipices,  until  at  eventide  they  came  to  the 
sea  and  a  broad  highway  that  followed  the  shore.  Here 
Melissa  bade  the  warrior  maiden  a  hearty  godspeed, 
and  turned  another  way,  intent  on  other  duties.  And 
Bradamant  went  fearlessly  onward,  until,  late  in  the 
evening,  she  came  to  a  little  roadside  inn.  There  she 
found  the  dwarf  Brunello,  a  hideous  little  man,  hunch- 
backed and  misshapen,  and  uglier  than  pen  can  describe. 
She  lost  no  time  in  making  his  acquaintance.  But 
the  wily  thief,  who  supposed  he  was  talking  to  one 
of  Charlemagne's  warriors,  was  on  his  guard,  and 
answered  her  questions  with  many  cunning  falsehoods. 
He  told  her  that  he  was  a  poor  laborer  driven  by  the 
ruthless  Saracens  from  his  home  in  Gascony ;  and  that 
he  was  now  on  his  way  to  Charlemagne  to  lend  the  king 
what  little  aid  he  could  in  driving  the  invaders  from  the 
land.  Then  he,  in  turn,  questioned  Bradarnant  concern- 
ing her  name,  her  home,  and  her  kinsfolk.  But  the 
warrior  maiden  met  guile  with  guile,  and  answered  him 
with  many  a  feigned  story ;  and  her  eyes  glanced  cau 
tiously  toward  his  hand  to  assure  herself  that  the  ma; 
ring  was  there. 


The   Winged  Horse  of  the  Pyrenees.      285 


ADVENTURE  XXIII. 


THE  WINGED   HORSE   OF  THE  PYRENEES 

EARLY  the  following  morning  Bradamant  was  awak- 
ened by  hearing  a  great  noise  in  the  courtyard  of  the 
inn.  She  quickly  donned  her  armor  and  ran  to  the 
window  to  see  what  was  the  cause  of  the  disturbance. 
The  host  and  all  his  family  were  gazing  upward  as  if  at 
some  wonderful  thing  in  the  heavens.  Every  one  about 
the  house  seemed  greatly  excited,  and  all  were  talking 
and  shouting  and  gesticulating  in  the  wildest  manner 
possible.  Even  the  dwarf  Brunello  was  on  the  balcony, 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and  looking  upward 
with  an  interest  too  strong  to  be  hidden. 

"  What  is  it  ? '    asked  Bradamant. 

"  A  winged  horse,"  answered  the  dwarf. 

"  A  winged  horse  !     Where  ?     Ah,  yes,  there  he  is ! ' 

Bradamant  saw  the  creature  very  plainly,  sailing 
serenely  through  the  air  above  them,  and  making  his 
way  toward  the  west.  His  wings  were  very  broad,  and, 
as  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun  fell  upon  them,  they  seemed 
colored  with  every  hue  of  the  rainbow.  Upon  his  back 
sat  a  knight  clad  in  glittering  armor,  and  hold;ug  an 


286  The  Story  of  KoUind,. 

open  book  in  his  hand.  And  so  rapid  was  the  flight  oi 
the  strange  animal,  that  in  a  few  moments  he  was  lost 
to  sight  among  the  far-off  clouds  and  mountain  tops. 

"  A  very  strange  creature  that  is,"  said  the  host,  ever 
ready  to  amuse  his  guests.  "  It  is  what  we  call  a  hip- 
pogriff,  and  I  have  been  told  that  there  is  not  such 
another  beast  in  the  world.  The  man  who  rides  him  is 
a  great  wizard.  He  reads  books,  and  dabbles  with  the 
metals,  and  gazes  at  the  stars.  His  name  is  Atlantes  j 
and  they  say,  that,  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains,  he 
has  the  most  wondrous  castle  that  ever  was  built  I 
have  been  told  that  it  is  made  of  steel,  and  that  it 
crowns  a  crag  so  steep  and  high  that  no  creature  with 
out  wings  can  reach  it" 

"  And  does  the  wizard  live  there  all  alone  ? f  asked 
Bradamant. 

"Ah,  no!'  answered  the  host  "He  has  many  fine 
guests,  and  others  arrive  every  day.  The  noblest  men 
and  women  of  France  are  in  attendance  at  his  court." 

"  How  can  that  be  when  the  only  road  tc  the  castle 
is  through  the  air  ? ' 

"  Oh !  he  has  his  own  way  of  inviting  his  guests 
Whenever  he  sees  a  knight  more  handsome  or  more 
tioble  than  the  common  sort,  he  merely  swoops  down 
upon  him  with  his  hippogriff,  picks  him  up,  and  carries 
him  aloft  to  his  mountain  eyry.  Many  fair  ladies  arid 
young  damsels  have  been  stolen  from  their  homes,  and 
doomed  to  imprisonment  in  the  wizard's  airy  palace. 
And  we  can  only  guess  whether  they  are  happy  or  mis* 


The   Winged  Horse  of  ike  Pyrenees      287 

erable  there,  for  who  once  goes  up  to  those  shining 
halls  can  ne'er  come  down  again." 

"  How  I  should  like  to  try  a  passage  at  arms  with  old 
father  Atlantes  ! '  cried  Bradamant  "  I  wonder  if  he 
would  think  me  worth  carrying  up  to  his  lofty  den." 

"  It  is  very  likely  that  he  would  have  you  there  ere 
you  could  deal  one  stroke  with  sword  or  lance,"  an- 
swered the  host,  shaking  his  head. 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  try  the  venture,  at  any 
rate,"  said  the  maiden.  "Is  there  any  one  here  who 
knows  the  way  to  the  thief's  retreat,  and  who  will  serve 
me  as  a  guide  ? ' 

"May  it  please  you,  sir  knight,"  spoke  the  dwarf 
very  quickly,  "I  myself  will  show  you  the  way.  I 
have  here  a  little  book  in  which  the  road  is  set  down 
and  the  whole  country  described  I  shall  only  be  too 
glad  to  serve  you." 

Bradamant  thanked  him  very  kindly,  and  the  two 
began  at  once  to  make  ready  for  the  journey.  As  the 
White  Knight  had  no  steed  of  her  own,  she  bargained 
with  the  host  for  a  palfrey  which  he  had  to  sell, — a 
light-footed  creature,  well  suited  to  the  road,  but  ill 
fitted  for  the  combat.  And,  before  the  sun  was  very 
high,  the  knight  and  the  dwarf  bade  their  friends  at  th<£ 
inn  good-by,  and  set  out  on  their  dangerous  venture. 
Bradamant,  clad  in  her  white  armor,  and  bearing  a  long 
lance  and  the  white  emblazoned  shield  of  Montalban, 
rode  erect  and  proud  as  any  peer  of  the  realm  ;  while 
the  dwarf,  with  becoming  humbleness,  followed  at  some 


288  The  Story  of  Roiana. 

distance,  riding  upon  a  Icwly  mule.  Through  a  deep 
valley  they  passed,  and  over  rugged  hills,  and  through 
untrodden  woods,  until  they  reached  the  foot  of  the 
snowy  mountains.  Then,  with  many  a  mishap  and 
many  a  weary  turn,  they  climbed  the  rocky  slopes,  and 
came  to  that  place  where  one  may  look  down  and  see 
on  one  side  Spain,  on  the  other  the  fair  fields  of  France 
Then,  following  a  narrow  path,  they  painfully  wended 
their  way  down  again,  and  came  at  last  to  a  broad,  low 
plain,  and,  glancing  upward  to  the  craggy  slopes  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  valley,  they  saw  the  object  of  their 
search,  —  the  wizard's  air-built  castle.  The  bright  tow- 
ers of  steel  could  be  plainly  seen,  glinting  and  glisten- 
ing in  the  sunlight,  but  so  high  that  the  neighboring 
cliffs  seemed  left  far  below. 

"  Behold ! '  cried  the  dwarf,  riding  up  close  to  the 
knight,  —  "behold  the  enchanter's  dwelling,  the  prison- 
house  where  many  ladies  and  cavaliers  pine  their  days 
away ! ' 

Bradamant  knew  that  the  time  had  come  for  her  to 
take  the  magic  ring ;  but  she  scorned  to  harm  a  crea- 
ture of  so  base  a  sort  as  the  dwarf,  —  weak,  unarmed, 
and  unskilled  in  self-defence  as  he  was.  So,  while  he 
gazed  in  rapt  wonder  at  the  high-built  towers,  she  sud- 
denly seized  his  hands,  and  slipped  the  precious  ring 
from  his  ringer.  Then  she  lifted  him  from  his  mule, 
and  with  strong  cords  bound  him  to  a  neighboring  tree. 
The  poor  dwarf,  with  tears  and  groans  and  piteous 
cries,  begged  her  to  set  him  free.  But  she  knew  the 


The   Winged  Horse  of  the  Pyrenees.      289 

cunning  thief  too  well,  and  staid  not  to  listen  to  his 
pleas.  Leisurely  adown  the  hillside  she  rode,  until  she 
reached  the  treeless  meadow  close  under  the  castie; 
then  pausing,  she  raised  her  bugle  to  her  lips,  and 
blew  a  ahriil  blast,  the  sound  of  which  was  echoed  from 
cliff  to  cliff,  and  from  valley  to  valley,  until  both  earth 
and  sky  seemed  to  ring.  And,  ere  the  sound  had  died 
away,  the  winged  courser,  with  his  master  on  his  back, 
leaped  from  the  shining  towers  above,  and  soared  leis- 
urely up  into  the  mid-air.  Then  slowly  he  began  to 
settle  toward  the  earth,  circling  down,  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  fearless  warrior  maiden.  But  Bradamant 
noticed  that  the  wizard  carried  neither  lance,  nor 
sword,  nor  other  weapon,  but  that  on  his  left  arm  he 
bore  a  small  round  shield  covered  all  over  with  crimson 
silk,  and  in  his  right  hand  was  the  open  book  from 
which  he  seemed  to  be  always  reading. 

As  the  wizard  with  his  winged  steed  charged  down 
upon  our  heroine,  she  aimed  blow  after  blow  with  her 
lance  at  the  silk-covered  shield  which  he  held  before 
him  *  but  every  stroke  glanced  harmlessly  aside.  At 
last,  growing  tired  of  this  kind  of  fray,  she  dismounted 
from  her  palfrey,  and  drew  her  sword.  The  wizard,  feel 
ing  now  that  he  had  amused  himself  long  enough,  be- 
gan to  lift  the  silken  cover  from  his  shield.  Bradamant 
had  learned  from  the  weird  woman  Melissa  what  sort 
of  shield  this  was.  The  magic  light  which  shone  from 
its  polished  sides  had  the  power  to  blind,  disarm,  and 
overthrow  all  who  looked  upon  it ;  and  it  was  by  means 


290  The  Story  of  Roland. 

of  this  shield,  and  not  through  any  strength  or  skill  o! 
his  own,  that  the  wizard  won  all  his  victories.  Yet 
such  was  the  virtue  of  Angelica's  magic  ring,  that  it 
rendered  its  wearer  proof  against  all  enchantments  of 
this  kind. 

With  the  ring  tightly  clasped  in  her  left  hand,  and 
her  sword  in  her  right,  Bradamant  went  boldly  forward 
to  meet  her  foe ;  but,  as  she  saw  the  shining  shield  laid 
bare,  she  closed  her  eyes,  as  if  overcome  by  its  glare> 
and  fell  to  the  ground.  The  wizard,  well  pleased,  made 
his  steed  alight ;  and,  covering  the  shield  again  with  the 
crimson  cloth,  he  hung  it  upon  the  pommel  of  his  sad 
die,  and  dismounted.  With  a  strong  cord  in  his  hand 
he  went  leisurely  forward  to  bind  his  prisoner.  He  had 
captured  scores  of  valiant  knights  in  this  way,  and  no 
thought  of  any  mishap  had  ever  entered  his  mind.  So 
you  may  imagine  his  astonishment,  when  Bradamant, 
who  had  only  been  feigning,  rose  quickly,  and  seized 
him,  and  bound  him  fast  with  his  own  strong  cord. 
The  first  thought  of  the  warrior  maiden  was  to  slay  the 
wicked  wizard ;  but  when  she  saw  that  he  was  a  very 
old  man,  with  sorrowing,  wrinkled  face,  and  snow-white 
hair,  she  pitied  his  age  and  his  grief,  and  would  not 
harm  him, 

"Ah,  brave  knight!'  said  the  helpless  old  man5 
"  you  have  conquered  me,  and  all  my  magic  has  come  tc 
naught.  Slay  me,  I  pray  thee,  for  life  is  no  longes 
worth  the  living." 

"Tell  me,  first,"  said  Bradamant,  "why  you  carry 


The   Winged  Horse  of  the  Pyrenees.      291 

this  cruel  and  unknightly  warfare  against  your  fellow- 
men.  Why  have  you  built  those  prison  towers  ? ' 

"It  was  all  for  young  Roger's  sake,"  answered  the 
wizard.  "  He  is  the  noblest  and  fairest  of  men,  and 
the  only  being  on  earth  that  I  love.  I  built  the  castle 
for  him.  I  stored  it  with  every  comfort,  and  I  brought 
to  it  every  pleasure  that  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe 
could  afford.  I  have  sought  out  the  most  worthy 
knights  and  the  handsomest  ladies  in  Christendom  and 
in  Paynimry  for  his  companions,  I  have  kept  them  in 
prison,  it  is  true ;  but  it  is  a  prison  more  delightful  than 
many  a  palace." 

"  Ah,  sir  wizard  1 '  said  Bradamant,  "  you  should 
know  that  a  prison,  however  gilded  and  painted,  is  a 
prison  still.  Liberty  is  the  sweetest  of  enjoyments. 
So  come  with  me  at  once,  and  open  your  gates,  and  set 
your  prisoners  free." 

Old  Atlantes,  writhing  and  groaning  in  helpless  dis- 
tress, obeyed.  He  led  the  way  to  the  narrow  cleft  and 
the  steep,  hidden  path,  up  which  Roland,  as  I  have  re- 
*ated,  had  ridden  blindly  into  prison.  They  climbed  the 
rugged  precipice,  and  stood  at  the  golden  gate  of  the 
castle.  Here  they  paused.  From  the  threshold,  where- 
on were  graven  wondrous  signs  and  many  a  magic  rune, 
the  wizard  lifted  a  broad  flat  stone.  In  a  little  cham- 
ber underneath  the  sill  were  ranged  all  kinds  of  cruci- 
bles and  pots  and  strangely  shaped  lamps,  wherein 
burned  secret  fires  such  as  oaly  sorcerers  know  how  to 
kindle. 


292  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"  Oh,  sad,  sad  day  I "  sighed  the  old  man,  groaning 
and  trembling  in  deep  distress.  "Sad  day  that  sees 
the  end  of  my  dearest  hopes  I  But  then  it  becomes 
not  poor  mortals  to  struggle  against  the  decrees  of 
Fate." 

Then  he  took  the  magic  vessels,  and  one  by  one  he 
burled  them  over  the  precipice  into  the  depths  below. 
As  the  last  one  fell,  and  was  shattered  on  the  rocks,  a 
wondrous  thing  took  place.  The  fairy  castle,  with  its 
steel-bright  walls,  and  its  tall  towers,  and  its  broad  bat- 
tlements, and  pleasant  halls,  and  narrow  courtyard,  and 
golden  gate,  faded  away  into  nothingness ;  and  in  its 
place  was  a  bleak  and  cheerless  mountain  cave,  through 
which  the  cold  winds  whistled  and  shrieked,  and  in 
which  there  was  neither  light,  nor  comfort,  nor  aught 
that  could  give  pleasure  or  enjoyment.  And  out 
through  the  rocky  cave  mouth  where  erst  had  stood  the 
golden  gate,  there  passed  in  long  procession  the  pris- 
oners who  had  been  entrapped  in  the  wizard's  toils. 
First  came  the  knights,  each  clad  in  full  armor,  and  rid- 
ing his  own  war-steed ;  and  as  they  went  out.  they 
gazed  around  in  utter  amazement,  not  knowing  where 
they  were,  nor  remembering  aught  of  that  which  had 
happened  to  them,  There  were  all  the  noblest  chiefs 
of  Paynimry,  —  Roger  the  Moorish  prince,  for  whose 
sake  all  this  witchery  had  been  planned ;  and  Sacnpant 
the  king  of  Circassia ;  and  Ferrau  the  dark-browed 
Moor,  wearing  no  helmet ;  and  Gradasso  of  Sericane. 
There,  too,  were  Roland,  and  Astolpho  of  England,  and 


The   Winged  Horse  of  the  Pyrenees.      293 

a  great  host  of  noblemen  and  warriors  of  lesser  note. 
Then  came  the  ladies  and  the  fair  young  damsels,  all 
mounted  on  prancing  palfreys,  and  in  their  wonder 
scarcely  knowing  whether  to  rejoice  at  this  unexpected 
turn  of  fortune,  or  to  look  upon  it  as  the  beginning  of 
new  and  unknown  evils.  And  last  of  all  came  Angeii 
ea,  the  matchless  Princess  of  Cathay,  who,  like  the 
others,  had  been  entrapped  into  the  wizard's  prison 
house.  And  as  the  sad,  glad,  bewildered  company 
wound  round  the  rugged  hill  in  their  slow  and  difficult 
descent  to  the  plain,  Bradamant  thought  that  never  in 
the  world  had  there  been  seen  a  nobler  and  more  varied 
array  of  valor  and  of  beauty.  She  looked  around  to 
speak  to  the  old  wizard ;  but  he  had  skulked  away, 
grieved,  ashamed,  and  disappointed,  to  hide  himself 
from  the  eyes  of  mankind.  And,  when  the  last  of  that 
strange  procession  had  passed,  Bradamant  herself  fed- 
lowed  them  to  the  plain  below ;  and  there,  without 
word,  they  parted,  each  choosing  his  own  way. 


294  The  Sfory  of  Roland,. 


ADVENTURE  XXIV. 


HOW   ROLAND   LOST   HIS   HELMET. 

ROLAND  did  not  know  how  long  he  had  been  con- 
fined in  the  wizard's  castle.  It  might  have  been  a  few 
days,  it  might  have  been  many  months.  The  whole 
affair  was  to  him  but  a  dim  remembrance,  a  vague 
and  shadowy  dream.  When  he  found  himself  free  to 
go  where  he  pleased,  he  turned  his  horse's  head  toward 
the  east,  and  hurried  forward,  hoping  within  a  short 
time  to  join  the  hosts  of  Charlemagne,  He  had  not 
gone  far,  however,  when  he  was  overtaken  by  two 
knights,  who,  like  himself,  had  just  escaped  from  the 
prison-towers  of  Atlantes,  and  were  on  their  way  back 
to  the  scene  of  war.  They  were  Sacripant  the  Circas- 
sian king,  and  Ferrau  the  dark-browed  Moor.  But  the 
eyes  of  the  three  knights  had  been  so  blinded  bv  the 
wizard's  enchantments,  that  they  did  not  know  each 
other. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  cried  Ferrau,  riding  furiously  down 
upon  Roland.  "  Turn  back,  or  take  another  road  f ' 

Roland  grew  very  angry  at  the  words  and  the  tone  of 
the  Moor;  and,  turning  himself  about,  he  answered 


How  Roland  lost  his  Helmet.  295 

"  Thou  beastly  fellow,  were  it  not  that  thy  head  is  bare, 
I  would  soon  teach  thee  who  has  the  best  right  to  this 
road.  Turn  back  thyself,  or  else  ride  on  in  peace." 

"  Trouble  not  thyself  on  account  of  my  bare  head," 
said  Ferrau.  "  I  am  well  able  to  take  care  of  it,  as  I 
frill  show  thee  if  thou  move  not  out  of  my  way \ r 

"Friend,"  said  Roland  to  Sacripant,  who  had  just 
ridden  up,  "  I  pray  thee  lend  this  fellow  thy  helmet  I 
would  fain  teach  him  something  of  knightly  courtesy." 

"Dost  thou  take  me  for  a  fool?'  asked  Sacripant. 
"  Whose  bead  would  then  be  bare  ?  Lend  him  thine 
own  helmet,  or  hush  this  pother." 

Then  Ferrau,  fairly  boiling  with  rage,  cried  out, 
"  Fools  are  ye  both  !  As  if  I  might  not  help  myself  to 
a  helmet  if  I  wished.  But  I  have  sworn  to  go  bare- 
headed until  I  win  the  matchless  casque  of  Roland. 
No  other  helmet  shall  ever  touch  my  head." 

"  I  warrant,"  said  our  hero,  smiling,  "  that,  wert  thou 
to  meet  the  knight  of  whom  thou  speakest,  thy  very 
knees  would  quake  with  fear,  and  thou  wouldst  not  only 
forego  the  helmet,  but  wouldst  gladly  buy  thy  life  with 
th)  other  arms." 

Then  Ferrau  began  to  boast  that  he  had  often  before 
had  Roland  on  the  hip,  and  that  it  would  be  mere  child's 
play  to  win  the  helmet  from  that  much  over-rated  hero. 

"Thou  brutish  braggart,"  cried  Roland,  no  longer 
able  to  hold  himself,  "  know  that  I  am  he  of  whom  thou 
speakest !  Now  see  if  thou  hast  the  might  to  take  the 
helmet  from  me."  And  with  these  words  he  lifted  the 


296  The  Story  of  Roland. 

fair  casque  from  his  head,  and  hung  it  upon  a  branch 
of  a  spreading  beech,  and  at  the  same  time  he  drew 
the  dread  blade  Durandal,  and  called  upon  Ferrau  to 
defend  himself. 

Long  and  fiercely  did  the  two  heroes  fight.  Theh 
swords  flashed  hither  and  thither  like  the  lightning's 
play.  Their  shields  were  bruised  and  dinted  in  many  a 
place,  and  yet  neither  seemed  to  get  the  better  of  the 
other.  Sacripant,  who  was  now  more  eager  than  ever 
to  return  to  his  own  country,  stopped  not  to  see  the 
issue  of  the  combat,  but  rode  onward,  little  caring 
which  of  the  knights  should  be  the  victor. 

Now,  it  happened  that  the  Princess  Angelica  had 
taken  the  same  road;  and  as  she  came  near  to  the 
scene  of  combat,  and  heard  the  clashing  of  the  swords, 
and  the  ringing  of  the  shields,  she  felt  curious  to  know 
who  it  was  that  fought  thus  furiously.  The  thick  un- 
dergrowth of  shrubs  and  the  leafy  branches  of  the 
great  beech  hid  her  from  the  sight  of  the  busy  comba- 
tants ;  and,  without  any  fear  of  being  seen,  she  paused, 
and  watched  the  conflict  with  great  interest.  She  saw 
the  glittering  helmet  hanging  from  the  bough  above 
her,  and  she  understood  at  once  what  the  fighting  was 
about.  She  did  not  want  the  fierce  Moor  to  win  that 
casque :  he  should  not  have  it,  even  though  he  should 
be  the  victor.  So,  while  the  two  knights  were  blinded 
by  their  angry  strife,  she  quietly  took  the  helmet  down, 
turned  her  palfrey  about*  and  galloped  away  toward 
Marseilles. 


How  Roland  lost  his  Helmet.  297 

It  was  long  ere  either  of  the  knights  noticed  the  loss 
of  the  prize.  Ferrau  was  the  first  to  turn  his  eyes 
toward  the  spot  where  it  had  hung. 

"Ah,  silly  blockheads  we  are  I"  he  cried,  "to  fight 
thus  blindly,  while  the  knave  who  rode  hither  with  us 
carries  the  rich  prize  away." 

When  Roland  saw  that  the  casque  was  really  gone, 
he  agreed  with  Ferrau  in  thinking  that  it  had  been 
stolen  by  Sacripant ;  and  the  two  who,  had  just  been 
the  bitterest  of  foes,  now  ceased  their  fighting,  and 
spurred  onward  in  pursuit  of  the  supposed  thief.  By 
and  by  they  came  to  a  place  where  the  road  forked, 
and  here  they  were  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do ;  for 
they  saw  the  prints  of  horses'  hoofs  going  either  way. 
At  length  Roland  took  the  road  which  turned  to  the 
right,  hoping  to  overtake  the  thief  in  the  valley  below, 
while  Ferrau  kept  the  path  which  led  nearer  the  slope 
of  the  mountain.  All  day  long  did  Roland  urge  his 
steed  forward ;  but  no  traces  did  he  find  of  the  Circas- 
sian chief,  nor  did  he  for  many  a  month  recover  the 
gleaming  helmet  that  he  so  highly  prized. 

As  Ferrau  rode  leisurely  along  the  pathway  which  he 
had  chosen,  he  came  to  a  pleasant  grove,  where  a  spring 
of  water  gurgled  up  among  rocks  and  flowers.  He 
stopped  a  moment  to  enjoy  the  pleasant  shade ;  and,  as 
his  eyes  glanced  upward,  he  was  amazed  to  see  the 
coveted  helmet  hanging  on  a  branch  above  the  spring. 
With  a  hoarse  cry  of  delight  he  sprang  forward,  and 
seized  it  in  his  hands ;  and,  as  he  did  so,  he  caught  a 


298  The  Story  of  Roland. 

glimpse  of  the  fair  princess  fleeing,  like  a  frightened 
deer,  through  the  forest.  Well  pleased  was  the  fierce 
Ferrau.  The  matchless  helmet  of  Roland  was  at  last 
his  owne  What  cared  he  now  for  the  success  of  the 
Pagan  arms  in  France.  He  turned  his  horse  about,  and 
with  h;s  swarthy  head  incased  in  the  long-wished-fo? 
Basque,  he  rode  back  leisurely  tabard  Spain. 


The  B&UU.  299 


ADVENTU&E  JCXF. 


THE  BATTLE. 

HARD  pressed  was  Charlemagne  by  his  Pagan  foes 
Great,  indeed,  was  the  peril  of  the  French.  The  enemy 
under  Marsilius  and  Agramant  of  Africa,  hemmed  them 
in  on  every  side :  they  shut  them  up  within  the  city 
walls,  and  battered  at  the  city  gates.  All  France  was 
in  distress  :  all  Christendom  seemed  in  danger.  Where 
now  were  the  heroes  upon  whose  valor  and  strength  the 
hosts  of  Charlemagne  were  wont  to  rely  ?  The  faith- 
ful Roland  was  a  helpless  prisoner  still  in  the  mountain 
keep  of  old  Atlantes.  Oliver  was  sick  from  a  grievous 
wound,  and  unable  to  leave  his  chamber.  Ogier  the 
Dane  had  fallen  into  disgrace,  and  dared  not  come  into 
the  presence  of  the  king.  Reinold  of  Montalban  still 
tarried  in  Britain.  Of  all  the  mighty  peers  of  the 
realm,  Duke  Namon  alone  was  with  the  king ;  yet  age 
had  dimmed  the  old  counsellor's  eye,  and  unnerved  his 
hand,  and  he  was  no  longer  a  hero  in  battle  as  he  had 
been  in  the  earlier  days. 

And  every  day  the  French  host  looked  with  eager- 
oess  a*d  hope  for  the  coming  of  Roland  or  ReinoJd ; 


3OO  The  Story  of  Roland, 

•••^•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••'•••^••••••^^^^•Illll         'I'         !••••• .•!!•••  Ml    I -II    111  I  HI    mi^HII.  I  •  IIIJU«M 

but  no  tidings  were  heard  of  them.  And  some  went 
boldly  to  the  king,  and  prayed  him  to  pardon  Ogier  hi« 
offences,  and  call  him  to  their  aid.  But  the  king  would 
not.  And,  to  make  the  matter  worse,  fresh  hordes  of 
Saracens  came  daily  to  strengthen  the  besiegers.  Rodo* 
inont,  the  lion-hearted  king  of  Algiers,  and  Dardinel* 
the  gentlest  born  of  all  the  Moorish  heroes,  crossed  the 
sea,  and  joined  their  forces  to  those  of  Marsilius  and 
Agramant;  and  the  Saracen  lines  pressed  closer  and 
still  more  closely  upon  the  outposts  of  the  French. 

Just  at  the  time  when  all  hope  seemed  lost,  a  herald 
made  his  way  into  the  city,  bearing  glad  news.  Had 
Roland  come  at  last  ?  No ;  but  Reinold,  with  eight 
thousand  Scotch  and  English  fighting-men,  horse  and 
foot,  was  but  a  day's  journey  away.  Hope  sprang  anew 
in  the  hearts  of  the  besieged,  and  their  drooping  spirits 
rallied.  The  next  night,  by  means  of  bridge  and  boats, 
Remold  and  his  little  army  silently  crossed  the  river, 
and  early  in  the  morning  they  attacked  the  besieging 
Moors.  Reinold,  on  his  famed  horse  Bayard,  led  the 
charge,  leaving  his  brave  Scots  fully  a  bow-shot  length 
behind.  At  very  sight  of  the  well-known  hero,  the 
Moorish  lines  began  to  waver ;  the  lances  quivered  in 
the  hands  of  the  Pagan  knights ;  their  feet  trembled  in 
the  stirrups;  they  were  ready  to  retreat.  Never  had 
warrior  been  seen  who  rode  with  a  prouder  grace,  or 
fought  with  greater  skill  Well  worthy  was  Reinold  to 
be  called  a  son  of  Mars.  Many  were  the  valiant  feata 

arms  that  he  performed  that  day,  and  many  were  the 


The  Battle,  301 


foes  who  fell  before  him.  At  last,  having  splintered  his 
good  lance,  he  drew  his  sword  Flamberge,  and  rode  like 
a  destroying  hurricane  into  the  Pagan  ranks.  Right 
and  left  the  Saracens  parted  before  him.  Their  arms 
seemed  made  of  brittle  glass,  so  easily  were  they  shat- 
tered by  the  descending  blade.  Their  bucklers  of  oak 
and  tanned  hides,  their  quilted  vests  and  twisted  tur- 
bans, seemed  but  as  thinnest  drapery  under  the  light- 
aing-strokes  of  Flamberge.  And  the  swarm  of  Pagans 
who  flocked  to  the  field  fell  in  his  way  like  the  yellow 
corn  before  the  sickle  of  the  reaper. 

The  battle  thickened.  The  Moorish  host  for  miles 
around  seemed  aroused,  and  rushing  to  the  combat 
The  trumpets  bellowed  forth  their  deep,  sonorous  battle- 
call.  The  drums  beat  to  arms,  On  every  side  were 
heard  the  twang  of  the  bow,  the  whiz  of  the  sling,  the 
crash  of  lances,  dire  shrieks,  and  dismal  groans,  and 
loud  laments,  and  all  the  terrible  din  of  battle.  From 
the  more  distant  parts  of  the  field  fresh  recruits  came 
and  filled  up  the  gaps  which  Reinold  and  his  Scotchmen 
had  made ;  and  it  seemed  as  though  the  number  of  the 
foe  grew  greater  rather  than  less.  The  meadows  which 
but  yesterday  had  been  so  green  and  fair  were  red  now 
irith  human  blood ;  and  where  the  violets  and  butter- 
cups had  bloomed  before,  now  heaps  of  slain  men  and 
slaughtered  steeds  were  seen. 

While  this  fearful  battle  was  raging  outside  of  the 
walls,  Rodomont,  the  fierce  Algerian  chief,  rode  around 
to  the  othtr  side  of  the  city.  Single-handed  he  broke 


302  The  Story  of  Roland. 

through  the  unguarded  gates.  From  one  street  to  an 
other,  like  a  raging  lion,  he  roamed.  On  every  hand  he 
slew,  he  burned :  he  spared  no  one.  Charlemagne,  who 
was  intent  on  aiding  Reinold  in  front,  knew  nothing  of 
this  foe  who  had  come  in  from  the  rear.  Two  thou 
sand  Englishmen  had  cut  their  way  through  the  Moor- 
ish lines,  and  the  gates  were  opened  to  receive  and 
welcome  them.  The  king  was  about  to  order  a  sally  to 
be  made ;  his  warriors  were  in  line,  waiting  his  word  of 
command,  when  suddenly  a  squire,  all  pale  with  dread, 
and  panting  for  breath,  rushed  into  his  presence. 

"  Alas,  alas ! '  he  cried,  scarcely  able  to  say  more, 
"  the  foe  is  within  the  walls !  Turn,  look  around,  and 
see  the  red  flames  and  the  curling  smoke,  and  hear  the 
cries  of  the  terror-stricken  townsfolk  ! ' 

Charlemagne  waited  not  a  moment.  With  his  brav- 
est knights  he  turned,  and  hastened  to  meet  and  drive 
back  this  unexpected  foe.  But  he  found  ruin  and 
desolation  everywhere.  The  palaces  were  burned ;  the 
churches  were  in  flames ;  women  and  children  were 
hurrying  to  and  fro,  seeking  places  of  safety.  The 
king,  supposing  that  a  large  force  of  the  Moors  had 
broken  through  the  walls,  rallied  his  men  around  him? 
and  made  his  way  toward  the  citadel ;  for  he  gave  up 
all  else  as  lost,  and  thought  to  make  a  last  stand  in  that 
strongly  walled  fortress.  But  Rodomont,  drunk  with 
blood  and  victory,  and  despising  all  mankind,  with  a 
sword  in  one  hand  and  a  torch  in  the  other,  was  already 
there  He  had  followed  the  terror-stricken  people  to 


The  BatiU.  303 


the  very  gates  of  the  castle ;  and  these  he  was  shaking 
and  smiting,  as  if  he  would  force  an  entrance.  From 
the  roof  above  him  the  warders  threw  down  every  sort 
of  missile  they  could  lay  hold  of,  hoping  to  crush  their 
terrible  foe.  But  Rodomont,  fearless  and  unharmed, 
and  like  a  demon  glittering  bright  in  his  armor,  still 
hewed  furiously  at  the  gate.  At  this  moment  the  king 
and  his  knights  hove  upon  the  scene.  Great  was  their 
surprise  to  learn  that  all  this  panic  and  destruction  had 
been  the  work  of  a  single  man.  All  together  they 
dashed  upon  the  Pagan.  Eight  lances  struck  at  once 
against  the  armor  of  Rodomont,  but  all  glanced  off 
harmless.  The  Algerian  chief  bore  a  charmed  life, 
and  easier  would  it  be  to  pierce  an  anvil  with  a  needle 
than  to  have  smitten  him  with  any  weapon.  At  the 
call  of  Charlemagne  other  knights  rushed  upon  the 
Pagan.  They  barricaded  all  outlets,  and  sought  to  take 
him  prisoner.  But  Rodomont  walked  straight  through 
their  midst,  and  seemed  not  to  think  that  any  danger 
threatened  him.  With  long  steps  and  slow,  he  made 
his  way  toward  the  river;  but  he  was  hindered  and 
galled  on  every  side  by  a  mob  of  knights  and  daring 
men-at-arms.  Now  and  then  he  turned  upon  his  foes, 
and  fought  them  like  a  lion  at  bay.  At  length  he 
reached  the  river-bank,  and  cast  himself,  all  armed  as 
he  was,  into  the  foaming  water.  Across  the  stream, 
without  any  seeming  effort,  he  swam,  as  if  borne  up  by 
corks  and  wafted  by  the  wind.  He  climbed  upon  th« 
farther  shore,  and,  without  looking  back  at  hi*  baffled 
foes,  strode  leisurely  awav 


304  The  Story  of  Roland. 

Meanwhile  the  battle  outside  of  the  walls  continued 
with  ever-increasing  fury.  The  carnage  lulled  not,  nor 
slackened,  but  wilder  grew,  and  worse.  Many  times 
the  Moors  began  to  waver ;  and  they  would  have  given 
way  before  the  terrible  onsets  of  Reinold  and  hia 
Scotchmen,  had  they  not  been  rallied  by  their  gallant 
young  chief,  King  Dardinel.  This  chief  bore  a  shield 
upon  which  were  red  and  white  quarterings,  the  same  as 
those  emblazoned  on  Roland's  arms ;  and  very  rare  was 
his  skill  in  combat,  and  very  great  his  valor.  And 
when  Reinold  saw  that  the  fate  of  the  battle  depended 
upon  him,  he  cried  out,  "  This  is  an  evil  plant,  which  it 
were  well  to  uproot  ere  it  becomes  too  great  and  strong." 
Then,  spurring  his  horse  toward  the  young  chieftain,  he 
called  out,  "  Poor  child,  whose  buckler  is  that  thou 
bearest  ?  It  is  a  dangerous  thing  for  one  like  thee  to 
carry.  Come,  show  us  how  thou  canst  defend  the 
chosen  colors  of  our  own  chief  Roland !  Doubtless 
thou  hast  gotten  them  by  fraud,  and  thou  shalt  lose 
them  by  force/' 

Dardinel  was  not  at  all  dismayed  by  the  threatening 
tone  and  manners  of  the  Montalban  hero.  "More 
honor  than  dishonor  shall  be  mine  from  these  quarter- 
ings  of  red  and  white,'*  he  answered.  "  You  shall  see, 
that,  though  I  am  a  child,  I  know  well  how  to  defend 
that  which  I  bear.  I  trust  in  God,  and  I  shall  not  dis- 
grace my  father's  teaching." 

When  he  had  spoken,  the  boy  raised  his  sword,  and 
rushed  manfully  to  the  conflict  But  his  weapon  fel* 


The  Battle.  305 


harmlessly  upon  Reinold's  helmet ;  and  before  he  could 
turn  about  or  defend  himself,  that  knight  dealt  him  so 
furious  a  blow  in  the  breast,  that  he  reeled  in  Vis  saddle 
and  fell  lifeless  to  the  ground  As  the  violet  '\prooted 
by  the  plough  lies  fading  in  the  scorching  sunsnine,  or 
as  the  poppy  droops  its  head  and  in  its  beauty  dies,  so 
perished  this  young  flower  of  Moorish  chivalry.  And 
with  him  died  the  hopes  of  all  his  followers. 

The  Saracens,  dismayed  and  beaten,  now  began  a 
wild  retreat,  and  had  not  Marsilius  of  Spain  wisely 
led  them  into  a  fortified  camp  which  he  had  made  ready, 
some  miles  away,  few,  if  any  of  them,  would  ever  have 
escaped  from  France.  That  night  the  French  host 
encamped  upon  the  battlefield ;  and  watchfires  high 
and  bright  were  built  all  around  that  bloody  plain. 
And  the  remnant  of  the  Moors  lay  uneasily  behind 
their  hastily  built  earthworks,  and  planned  how  they 
might  steal  away  and  escape  under  the  friendly  m&ntk 


306  The  Story  of  Roland, 


ADVRNTURR  XXVL 


MEDORO  THE  MOOR. 

In  the  Moorish  camp  were  two  young  knights  named 
Medoro  and  Cloridan,  the  bosom  friends  of  the  ill-fated 
Dardinel.  Cloridan,  the  elder,  was  tall  and  slim  and 
supple  as  the  twig  of  hickory  or  of  elm ;  and  he  loved 
the  greenwood  and  the  chase  much  better  than  the 
clashing  of  arms  and  the  horrid  scenes  of  war.  Medoro 
was  very  fair,  like  a  Saxon  rather  than  a  Moor ;  and 
his  long  golden  hair  fell  in  ringlets  about  his  shoulders  ; 
while  his  jet  black  eyes  snapped  and  sparkled  like 
diamonds  set  in  alabaster.  Never  has  painter  pictured 
an  angel  more  beautiful  than  he. 

On  that  sad  night  which  followed  the  day  of  battle, 
the  two  young  men,  with  others  of  the  Moorish  host, 
stood  guard  before  the  camp;  and  every  word  they 
spoke  was  of  their  lost  lord  Dardinel,  whom  they  be- 
wailed and  mourned  through  the  earlier  watches  of  the 
aight 

44  Ah,  Cloridan,"  Medoro  said,  "what  grief  it  is  to  me 
that  he  whom  we  loved  so  well  should  lie  unburied  upon 
the  plain,  the  food  of  the  raven  and  the  wolf  I  Gladly 


Medoro  the  Moor,  307 

would  I  give  up  my  own  life  to  save  his  body  from  this 
last,  most  dread  disgrace." 

And  then  the  two  recounted  together  the  noble  deeds 
of  the  young  chief,  and  talked  long  of  his  manly  virtue* 
and  of  the  rare  graces  of  his  mind  and  heart.  And  at 
length  Medoro,  carried  away  by  his  feelings,  cried  out, 
"Cloridan,  he  shall  not  lie  thus  ingloriously  upon  the 
field  of  battle  I  I  will  go  now,  and  find  him  where  he 
fell,  and  give  him  a  burial  worthy  of  one  so  noble 
hearted  Do  you  stay  here ;  and,  if  I  come  not  to  you 
again,  you  may  say  that  I  have  died  for  the  master 
whom  we  loved  so  well" 

Cloridan  was  amazed  to  find  in  his  comrade  so  much 
love  and  loyal  devotion ;  and  he  would  fain  have  dis- 
suaded him  from  a  venture  so  rash  and  full  of  danger. 
But  Medoro  was  not  to  be  moved  from  his  purpose; 
rather  would  he  die  than  forego  that  which  he  had 
resolved  upon.  So  Cloridan,  finding  him  deaf  to  all 
entreaties,  persuaded  him  no  more,  but  grasped  his 
hand,  and  said,  "Thou  shalt  not  go  alone,  Medoro.  I 
will  be  thy  companion,  and  share  with  thee  the  danger 
and  the  glory.  Rather  would  I  die  with  thee  in  arms 
than  that  thou  shouldst  perish  in  this  venture,  and  I  be 
kft  to  grieve  for  thee." 

Then  the  youthful  pair  stole  silently  away  from  their 
post,  and  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  made  their  way 
to  Charlemagne's  camp.  All  there  was  stilL  The 
tvatchfires  had  burned  low ;  and  only  an  uncertain  light 
was  shed  among  the  tents  by  the  few  red  heaps  of 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


coals  and  the  flickering  flame  of  some  half-extin- 
guished torches.  The  sentinels,  exhausted  with  the 
toil  and  the  turmoil  of  the  day,  slept  at  their  posts.  In 
their  tents,  and  around  the  smouldering  watchfires,  the 
soldiers  lay  asleep  among  their  arms.  About  the  field, 
with  stealthy  steps,  wandered  the  two  young  Moors, 
eagerly  seeking  the  place  where  their  young  master 
had  fallen.  Many  were  the  strange  sights  which  met 
their  eyes  as  they  carefully  picked  their  way  among  the 
sleeping  and  the  dead.  Here,  by  the  side  of  his  tent, 
was  the  learned  Alpheus,  famed  all  the  world  over  for 
his  skill  in  magic  and  astrology.  He  had  fallen  asleep 
over  his  mystic  charts  and  tables,  while  watching  the 
stars  and  vainly  trying  to  read  his  own  doom.  Near 
him  lay  a  beastly  drunkard,  clasping  an  empty  barrel  in 
his  arms,  and  dreaming  of  vine-clad  hills  and  rivers 
flowing  with  wine.  A  little  farther  on  sat  a  Greek  and 
a  Saxon,  who  had  spent  the  larger  part  of  the  night 
over  goblet  and  dice,  and  had  at  last  fallen  asleep  in  the 
midst  of  a  game.  Lightly  trod  the  two  Moors  among 
the  host  of  sleepers,  and  it  is  little  wonder  if  they  were 
tempted  to  avenge  their  friends  by  sheathing  their  bare 
blades  in  the  bodies  of  their  slumbering  foes.  By  and 
by  they  halted  in  sight  of  Charlemagne's  pavilion, 
where  the  barons  and  the  noblest  knights  were  tented  ; 
and  they  deemed  it  best  to  change  their  course,  for  it 
was  not  likely  that  all  in  that  warlike  company  were 
carelessly  sleeping.  So  they  left  the  tents  behind 
them,  and  groped  their  way  across  the  field,  where  the 


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Medoro  the  Moor.  309 

thickest  of  the  battle  had  been.  Here  they  saw,  lying 
wde  by  side,  or  piled  in  horrid  heaps,  the  dead  and  the 
dying,  the  king  and  his  vassal,  the  lord  and  his  tenant, 
the  rider  and  his  horse,  friends,  foes,  broken  lances* 
shields  and  helmets,  and  bows  and  falchions,  and  all 
the  wrack  and  ruin  that  follow  in  the  wake  of  pitiless 
war.  And  long  did  they  seek  among  this  dread  confu 
sion  for  the  body  of  their  loved  Dardinel. 

They  were  about  giving  up  their  search  in  despair, 
when  suddenly  the  moon  peeped  out  from  behind  a 
gloomy  cloud,  shedding  a  soft  and  ghostly  radiance 
over  the  sad,  silent  scene.  In  front  of  them  the  young 
Moors  saw  the  cold  walls  and  high  gray  towers  of  the 
city,  standing  like  great  spectres  in  the  pale  light. 
Behind  them  were  the  white  tents  of  their  foes,  in  long 
lines,  stretching  many  a  rood  on  either  side.  The  field 
of  death  upon  which  they  stood  seemed  a  thousand 
times  more  dread  and  lonely  than  when  it  was  hidden 
beneath  the  cloak  of  darkness.  Very  near  to  them,  on 
a  spot  where  the  moon  seemed  to  shine  the  brightest, 
lay  a  warrior  with  his  arms  beside  him.  It  was  Dardi- 
nel :  they  knew  him  at  once  by  his  shield  and  its  quar- 
tarings  of  white  and  red.  Tenderly  and  reverently 
Medoro  knelt  beside  the  body  of  his  young  lord,  and 
many  tears  he  shed  for  the  noble  life  so  cruelly  cut 
short  Then  silently  the  youths  lifted  the  king  upon 
their  shoulders,  and  with  careful  steps  hurried  from  the 
field. 

And  now  the  dawn  began  to  appear  in  the  east,  and 


$10  The  Story  ojf  Roland. 

the  clouds  which  had  seemed  so  dark  became  flecked 
with  red  and  gold.  The  faithful  young  Moors  were 
still  far  from  their  own  camp ;  nor  did  they  know  that 
their  friends  had  stolen  away  during  the  silent  night- 
watches,  and  were  now  many  leagues  on  the  road  t# 
ward  Spain.  Slowly  and  painfully  they  toiled  forward 
with  the  burden  on  their  shoulders,  more  fearful  now 
of  discovery  than  they  had  been  while  in  the  camp  of 
their  sleeping  foes.  Close  by  was  a  strip  of  thick 
woodland :  if  they  could  reach  it,  they  would  be  safe. 
Suddenly  a  hundred  horsemen  who  had  been  sent  out 
to  reconnoitre  dashed  into  view  Before  the  young 
Moors  could  hide  themselves,  they  were  seen  and  pur- 
sued. The  youths  heard  the  ringing  of  armor  and  the 
clatter  of  horses*  hoofs  close  behind  them ;  yet  such 
was  their  haste  that  they  dared  not  look  back. 

"  Let  us  save  ourselves  1 '  at  length  cried  Cloridan. 
"  It  were  folly  for  two  lives  to  be  lost  for  the  sake  of 
one  who  is  already  dead" 

And  he  gently  shifted  his  part  of  the  burden  from 
his  shoulders,  and  ran  as  swiftly  as  he  could  to  the 
friendly  shelter  of  the  grove.  He  doubted  not  but  that 
Medoro  was  following  close  behind.  But  the  poor  boy 
would  not  desert  his  master,  even  to  save  his  own  life. 
Without  saying  a  word,  he  took  the  whole  of  the  bur- 
den upon  his  own  shoulders,  and  slowly  and  painfully 
toiled  onward.  He  reached  the  edge  of  the  wood. 
Fiercely  rode  the  horsemen  down  upon  him,  and  thick 
Sew  the  arrows  about  his  head.  He  might  yet  have 


M&toro  the  Moor.  311 

saved  himself,  had  he  been  willing  to  leave  the  body  of 
DardineL  But  he  was  sorely  hindered  and  distressed 
The  place  was  strange  to  him,  full  of  fallen  trees  and 
clumps  of  underbrush;  and  he  was  soon  lost  in  its 
mazes.  The  horsemen,  knowing  the  wood  better  than 
he,  were  not  long  in  surrounding  him.  Cloridan,  in  his 
safe  hiding-place,  heard  the  loud  cries  of  the  pursuers, 
and  then  the  voice  of  the  boy  Medoro  defying  them. 
It  was  not  until  then  that  he  thought  of  his  friend's 
danger. 

"Ah!'  cried  he,  "why  was  I  so  careless  thus  to 
think  of  my  own  safety  only?  —  Medoro,  I  will  save 
thee,  or  die  with  thee ! ' 

He  ran  from  his  hiding-place  back  toward  the  more 
open  ground.  He  saw  Medoro,  followed  closely  by  a 
hundred  rude  soldiers,  running  hither  and  thither 
among  the  trees,  but  all  the  time  clinging  closely  to  the 
cherished  body  of  young  Dardinel.  At  last,  wearied, 
and  in  despair,  the  youth  laid  his  burden  down  upon 
the  grass,  and,  like  a  wild  beast  at  bay,  stood  over  it 
and  faced  his  foes.  And  now  Cloridan,  eager  to  save 
his  friend,  fitted  the  sharpest  arrow  to  his  bow,  and 
trom  behind  a  leafy  tree  let  it  fly  among  the  horse- 
men. So  well  aimed  was  the  shaft,  that  it  struck  a 
Scotch  knight  fairly  in  the  forehead,  and  stretched  him 
helpless  upon  the  ground.  The  rest  of  the  band,  sur- 
prised at  this  unlooked-for  blow,  turned  to  see  from 
whence  it  came ;  and  Cloridan,  quickly  launching  a  sec- 
ond arrow,  laid  another  horseman  low.  Fiercely,  then, 


31*  The  Story  of  Roland. 

the  leader  of  the  soldiers  dashed  toward  Medoro;  he 
seized  him  by  his  long  golden  curls ;  he  dragged  him 
roughly  forward,  and  drew  his  sword  to  slay  him.  But 
when  he  saw  the  lad's  angel  face  upturned  toward  him, 
he  paused. 

"Ah,  kind  knight,"  said  Medoro,  "I  pray,  for  the 
sake  of  the  God  whom  thou  adorest,  be  not  so  passing 
cruel  as  to  slay  me  ere  I  have  buried  my  master.  No 
other  favor  do  I  ask,  nor  do  I  wish  to  live  longer  than 
to  see  the  kind  earth  cover  his  dear  body." 

The  sweet,  persuasive  words  of  the  boy  would  have 
moved  the  stoniest  heart.  The  captain  listened,  and 
fain  would  have  spared  him  and  let  him  go ;  but  a 
churlish  fellow,  rude  and  brutish,  rode  suddenly  for- 
ward, and  smote  Medoro  with  his  lance.  The  captain's 
heart  was  deeply  stirred  within  him  at  sight  of  this 
base  act,  and,  full  of  sorrow  and  wrath,  he  sprang 
toward  the  unfeeling  wretch,  intending  to  strike  him 
down.  But  he,  marking  his  danger,  gave  spurs  to  his 
steed,  and  fled. 

When  Cloridan  saw  Medoro  fall  bleeding  to  the 
ground,  he  could  no  longer  hold  himself,  but,  springing 
from  his  covert,  he  ran  to  meet  his  foes.  He  cast  his 
bow  aside ;  he  brandished  his  sword  above  his  head ; 
he  charged  furiously  among  the  horsemen.  A  dozen 
weapons  pierced  him  at  once  :  the  leaves  and  flowers 
were  tinged  with  his  blood,  and  dying  he  fell  by  young 
Medoro's  side. 

"  Come,  my  men,"  cried  the  captain,  growing  heart 


Medorc  the  Moor.  313 

sick  at  sight  of  this  sad  scene,  —  "  come  away  I  Let  us 
have  no  more  such  work  as  this.  It  is  not  the  part  of 
true  knights  to  slay  young,  unoffending  boys." 

And  the  whole  company  turned  about,  and  followed 
their  chief  out  of  the  wood  and  back  to  the  camp  of 
Charlemagne,  And  there,  side  by  side,  lay  the  two 
young  Moors  upon  the  blood-stained  grass,  —  the  one 
dead,  the  other  sadly  wounded,  the  life-blood  streaming 
from  his  veins.  And  the  loved  prince  for  whom  they 
had  risked  so  much  and  lost  all,  lay  in  his  steelly  armor 
by  them.  And  there  Medoro  would  have  died,  had  not 
help  come  soon  and  unexpectedly. 

It  so  happened  that  a  young  maiden  journeyed 
through  the  wood  that  day,  and  chance  brought  her 
near  the  spot  where  the  three  Moors  lay.  She  was 
clad  in  the  rustic  garb  of  a  peasant ;  yet  she  was  very 
fair,  and  her  noble  face  betrayed  her  kinship  with  noble 
men.  It  was  Angelica,  the  Princess  of  Cathay.  By 
some  means  —  it  matters  not  what  —  she  had  gotten  her 
magic  ring  again ;  and  now  she  was  on  her  way  back  to 
her  eastern  home,  fearing  no  danger,  and  scorning  the 
thought  that  she  had  ever  asked  the  aid  of  living  knight. 
When  she  saw  the  young  Moor  lying,  bleeding  and 
smeared  for,  upon  the  ground,  her  heart  was  touched 
with  a  feeling  of  pity  such  as  she  had  never  known 
before.  She  knelt  upon  the  grass  beside  him,  and 
listened  while  he  told  the  story  of  his  sad  adventure. 

M  Be  of  good  cheer,"  she  said  when  he  had  finished 
"I  will  save  you." 


314  The  Story  of  Roland, 

Then  she  called  to  mind  the  haif-forgottcn  knowledge 
of  physic  and  surgery  which  she  had  learned  in  Cathay, 
and  she  began  to  bind  up  his  wounds.  In  a  meadow 
which  she  had  crossed  that  morning  she  had  seen  a 
plant  of  wondrous  virtue,  which  she  knew  would  stop 
the  flow  of  blood  and  ease  every  pain,  and  she  resolved 
to  go  back  and  get  it.  So,  bidding  Medoro  wait  pa- 
tiently and  hopefully  till  she  came  again,  she  hastily 
retraced  her  way,  and  stopped  not  until  she  had  found 
and  plucked  up  the  precious  weed.  As  she  was  run- 
ning back  again,  she  met  a  peasant  riding  through  the 
wood. 

"  Ah,  kind  sir  1 '  said  she,  "  I  pray  you  come  with  me 
A  gentle  youth  lies  in  the  greenwood,  wounded  unto 
death.  Come  and  help  him,  and  the  fairies  shall  bring 
you  good  luck  and  happiness  all  the  days  of  your  life." 

The  good  swain,  although  loath  at  first,  could  not 
resist  the  maid's  persuasive  pleading,  but  rode  back  with 
her  to  the  place  where  Medoro  lay.  They  found  the 
youth  very  faint  from  loss  of  blood,  and  nigh,  indeed, 
to  death's  door.  Quickly  Angelica  bruised  the  healing 
plant  between  two  stones,  and  squeezed  the  juice  upon 
the  young  man's  wounds.  Then  soon  Medoro  began 
to  revive.  The  blood  stopped  flowing ;  the  color  came 
again  into  his  cheeks  ;  he  staggered  to  his  feet ;  he  was 
strong  enough  to  sit  on  the  peasant's  horse.  Yet  he 
would  not  leave  the  place  until  his  lord,  King  Dardinel, 
and  his  young  friend  Cloridan,  were  laid  in  the  earth. 
In  a  grave  which  the  peasant  scooped  out  beneath  the 


Medoro  the  Moor.  315 

trees  they  laid  the  bodies  of  the  two  noble  knights, 
and  covered  them  with  turf  and  soft  moss  and  the 
grassy  sod.  And  then  Medoro  gave  himself  up  to  his 
new-found  friends,  and  was  ready  to  go  whithersoever 
they  should  lead  him. 

The  countryman  was  moved  alike  by  the  rare  beauty 
of  the  maiden  and  the  noble  bearing  of  the  knight , 
and  he  urged  them  to  go  with  him  to  his  own  home,  — 
a  pleasant  farmhouse  in  a  green  and  flowery  valley. 
And  thither  they  went ;  the  wounded  youth  riding  the 
peasant's  horse,  while  the  maiden  and  the  countryman 
walked  on  either  side.  Glad  was  the  welcome  with 
which  the  peasant's  wife  and  children  greeted  them  at 
the  cottage.  The  best  room  was  set  apart  for  Medoro's 
use;  and  Angelica,  not  wishing  to  lay  aside  her  humble 
disguise,  became  as  one  of  the  family,  and  cheerfully 
helped  the  good  housewife  in  her  daily  round  of  duties. 
And  many  years  afterward,  when  the  two  lived  in  a 
gorgeous  palace,  with  every  luxury  at  hand,  they  were 
fain  to  remember  this  time  as  the  happiest  period  of 
their  lives. 

And  there  the  princess  and  the  noble  young  Mooi 
lived  many  a  week  with  the  kind-hearted  peasant  folk  ; 
aor  would  Angelica  leave  her  patient  until  his  danger 
ous  wound  had  healed.  At  first  she  bad  felt  only  a 
strange  pity  for  him ;  but  as  day  after  day  she  gazed 
into  the  depths  of  his  flashing  eyes,  and  listened  to  the 
pleasant  words  which  fell  from  his  lips,  a  deeper  and 
far  different  feeling  possessed  her.  And,  when  he 


316  The  Story  of  Roland. 

•trong  enough  to  walk  about  in  the  open  air,  the  two 
spent  whole  days  together  in  the  greenwood,  listening 
to  the  song  birds,  and  gathering  flowers  and  ferns,  and 
talking  of  the  great  world  of  which  they  knew  so  little 
and  yet  so  much.  And  sometimes,  to  amuse  Angelica, 
Medoro  would  carve  their  names  upon  the  rocks  and 
trees.  In  divers  ways,  in  ciphers  quaintly  interlaced, 
he  graved  the  words,  ANGELICA,  MEDORO.  And,  ere 
the  summer  had  fled,  the  princess  and  the  knight  were 
wedded  in  the  peasant's  humble  dwelling,  and  two 
happy  hearts  beat  henceforth  as  one. 

And  when  at  length  the  days  began  to  grow  shorter, 
and  the  autumn  leaves  to  fall,  Angelica  bethought  her  of 
returning  to  Cathay,  where  she  intended  to  share  all  her 
honors  with  Medoro.  They  had  no  money  wherewith 
to  pay  their  humble  friends  for  their  kindness,  nor, 
indeed,  did  the  good  peasants  wish  any  reward.  But, 
as  they  were  about  to  depart,  Angelica  took  from  her 
wrist  a  golden  armlet  rich  with  rarest  gems,  and  bade 
her  hostess  keep  it  always  in  memory  of  them.  Then 
with  many  kind  godspeeds,  and  many  tears,  the  noble 
couple  turned  away  from  the  cottage,  and  took  the  high- 
road that  runs  toward  Spain.  Together  they  climbed 
the  rugged  Pyrenees,  and  descended  into  the  sunny 
plains  beyond ;  and  not  many  weeks  later  they  came  to 
Barcelona,  where  they  made  themselves  known,  and 
where  they  waited  for  a  vessel  to  sail  a  ad  bear  them 

their  distant  home. 


A  Contest  for  Durandal.  317 


ADVENTURE  XXV1L 


A  CONTEST  FOR  DURANDAL. 

ROLAND  came  to  the  scene  of  battle  only  a  single 
day  too  late.  The  victory,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been 
won  through  Remold' s  valor.  The  Pagan  hosts,  beaten 
and  disheartened,  were  flying  toward  Spain.  France 
was  freed  from  her  great  peril.  Roland  felt  mortified 
and  ashamed,  that,  while  others  had  been  fighting  for 
their  country's  honor,  he  had  been  delayed  in  the  air* 
built  castle  of  the  magician  Atlantes.  Yet  Charle- 
magne and  his  peers  welcomed  him  as  heartily  as  if  he 
had  come  in  the  time  of  need ;  and  a  day  was  set  apart 
for  glad  thanksgiving,  not  only  for  the  great  victory 
which  they  had  gained  over  their  foes,  but  also  for  the 
safe  return  of  the  hero  whom  they  had  mourned  as  lost. 
And  it  was  long  ere  Marsilius,  or  Agramant,  or  any 
other  Saracen  chief,  dared  lead  his  hosts  again  into 
France, 

After  this,  Roland  did  many  noble  deeds  of  arms  for 
the  honor  of  France  and  Christendom.  I  cannot  stop 
to  tell  you  now  of  his  gallant  feats  at  Rome  when  that 
city  was  besieged  by  Laban  and  Lukafere,  the  kings  of 


318  The  Story  of  Roland. 

Babylon ;  nor  of  his  famous  passage-at-arms  with  the 
Pagan  Sir  Femmbras;  nor  how  he  fought  and  slew 
the  giant  Fexragus,  a  monster  thirty  feet  high,  and  the 
terror  of  the  Christian  host ;  nor  how  he  conquered  Sir 
Otael  of  Spain  in  fair  fight,  and  forced  him  to  submit 
to  baptism.  All  these  stories,  and  many  more,  you 
may  read  in  the  songs  and  poems  of  the  old  days  of 
chivalry,1  While  everywhere  there  were  tyranny  and 
wrong-doing,  Roland,  with  his  strong  arm  and  manly 
voice,  sought  to  defend  the  right  and  uphold  justice. 
The  vows  which  he  had  taken  upon  entering  knight- 
hood were  ever  in  his  mind ;  and  he  deemed  that  his 
life  could  not  be  spent  more  worthily  than  in  the  ser- 
vice of  his  country,  his  king,  and  his  fellow-men. 

Once  on  a  time,  as  he  was  riding  through  a  moun- 
tainous country  near  the  sea,  he  found  himself  belated 
and  overtaken  by  the  darkness  of  night,  while  yet  he 
was  many  miles  from  any  dwelling.  As  he  looked 
around  to  find  some  place  of  shelter,  he  was  surprised 
to  see  a  light  streaming  from  a  narrow  cleft  in  the 
mountain  side.  Did  it  come  from  the  cell  of  a  hermit 
who  had  hidden  himself  in  this  lonesome  place  in  order 
$o  escape  from  the  bustle  and  bloodshed  of  those  cruel 
times  ?  Or  did  it  betray  the  hiding-place  of  robbers,  — 
of  men  whose  hands  were  lifted  against  their  fellow- 
men,  and  who  cared  nought  for  knighthood's  vows  or 
valorous  deeds  ?  Roland  did  not  stop  long  to  consider. 
Whatever  kind  of  dwelling  it  might  be  from  whicfe 

1  See  Note  15  at  the  end  of  this  vok 


A  Contest  for  Durand&L  319 

this  light  came,  he  was  determined  to  enter  it  and  de- 
mand a  night's  lodging.  In  front  of  the  entrance  to 
the  cave  was  a  great  thicket  of  thorns  and  bristly 
anderwood,  —  so  dense  that  any  one  passing  that  way 
in  the  daytime  would  not  have  noticed  any  break  IE 
the  rock  It  was  not  likely  that  a  hermit  would  th»m 
guard  and  conceal  the  entrance  to  his  cell, 

The  knight  tied  Brigliadoro  to  the  branch  of  an  ciiu^ 
and  stealthily  threaded  his  way  through  the  thicket  It 
was  not  hard  to  find  the  narrow  door  of  the  cavern,  for 
the  bright  light  streaming  through  it  showed  him  plain- 
ly the  way  to  go.  A  short  flight  of  narrow  steps  cut 
rudely  in  the  stone  led  downward  into  a  vaulted  cham- 
ber, which  seemed  chiselled  out  of  the  solid  rock.  The 
smoke-begrimed  ceiling  was  very  high ;  and  through  an 
opening  in  the  centre,  which  served  at  once  as  window 
and  chimney,  the  twinkling  stars  looked  down.  Upon 
the  floor  beneath  this  opening  a  bright  fire  burned, 
casting  a  ruddy  glow  around  the  room,  and  lighting  up 
the  doorway,  and  sending  its  rays  far  out  into  the  dark- 
ness beyond.  Before  this  fire  sat  a  damsel,  very  young 
and  very  fair,  clad  in  a  garb  which  Roland  thought 
would  have  been  better  suited  to  a  palace  or  a  king's 
court  than  to  this  dismal  place.  Her  great  blue  eyes 
were  swollen  with  much  weeping ;  yet  she  was  so  ex- 
ceedingly fair,  that  her  very  presence  seemed  to  drive 
all  gloom  from  the  cheerless  place.  Seated  on  the  floor^ 
not  far  away,  was  an  old  hag,  withered  and  gray  an4 
toothless,  who  was  mumbling  and  scolding  and  cursing. 


32O  The  Story  of  Roland. 

as  if  in  a  terrible  rage  about  something.  Roland,  see 
ing  that  these  two  were  the  only  persons  in  the  room, 
advanced,  and  kindly  saluted  them.  Both  dame  and 
damsel  were  greatly  surprised  at  the  sight  of  a  knight 
in  armor  standing  thus  unexpectedly  before  them  ;  but 
they  arose  quietly,  and  each,  in  her  way,  welcomed  him 
to  their  cavern  home.  The  old  hag,  like  one  who  it 
afraid  of  the  day,  shrank  from  the  hero's  gaze,  and 
cowering  sought  the  deeper  shadows  of  the  room.  But 
the  maiden,  with  hope  beaming  in  her  fair  countenance, 
looked  up  with  tearful,  pleading  eyes,  into  his  face.  Th« 
knight  knew  at  once  how  matters  stood  in  that  rude 
dwelling. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  he  kindly  to  the  maiden,  "  why  tho& 
art  imprisoned  in  this  cheerless  place.  Who  is  it  that 
is  so  void  of  gentleness  and  manly  feeling  as  to  bur^ 
thee  in  this  mountain  dungeon  ? " 

Then,  with  floods  of  tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks, 
the  maiden  told  him  her  sad  story.  She  told  him  that 
she  was  the  only  daughter  of  the  old  Saracen  king  of 
Gallicia,  and  that  her  name  was  Isabella ;  that  she  had 
been  secretly  betrothed  to  Zerbino,  the  son  of  Scot 
land's  king;  that,  without  the  consent  of  her  father* 
she  had  embarked  on  shipboard  at  Bayonne,  intending 
to  follow  her  lover  to  his  own  country ;  and  that  on  the 
first  night  of  the  voyage  a  great  storm  had  arisen,  and 
had  driven  the  vessel  upon  the  shore,  where  it  was 
wrecked  among  the  high,  pointed  rocks. 

"  The  caotain  *aw  well  our  danger,*'  said  she.     "  He 


A  Contest  for  Dnrandal.  321 

lowered  the  galley's  skiff,  put  me  in  it,  and,  with  two 
of  his  men,  embarked  among  the  breakers.  Landward 
over  the  raging  surf  we  were  driven  ;  and,  what  was 
little  short  of  a  miracle,  we  safely  lighted  on  a  shelving 
beach.  The  shore  was  bleak  and  barren.  No  dwelling 
was  in  sight,  nor  any  pathway,  but  only  bare  cHffs,  and 
high,  wood-crowned  hills.  Yet  the  first  thing  that  I  did 
was  to  fall  upon  my  knees,  and  offer  up  thanks  to  kind 
Heaven  for  our  deliverance.  But,  alas !  I  found  that 
I  had  been  snatched  from  the  waves,  only  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  foes  more  pitiless  than  the  sea  and  the 
storm.  A  band  of  pirates  who  infest  these  shores, 
and  who  had  seen  the  wreck  from  the  cliffs  above, 
rushed  down  upon  us  ere  we  were  aware.  Vainly  did 
the  good  captain  and  his  men  try  to  defend  me.  The 
robbers  slew  them  on  the  beach,  but  they  harmed  me 
not  I  was  a  rich  prize,  they  said,  and  some  time  I 
should  be  sold  for  a  high  price  to  some  wealthy  Moorish 
prince.  And  they  brought  me  to  this  cave,  and  gave 
me  into  the  care  of  this  old  dame,  who  is  my  jailer. 
And  here  for  weary  months  I  have  been  imprisoned  as 
in  a  living  grave,  scarce  hoping  ever  to  be  free." 

While  yet  the  damsel  was  speaking,  a  company  of 
men  came  silently  down  the  stairway,  and  stood  in  the 
cave.  They  were  rude,  brutish-looking  fellows,  some 
armed  with  hunting  spears,  and  some  with  swords ;  and 
they  paused  in  surprise  at  sight  of  the  knight  seated 
before  the  fire,  and  eagerly  listening  to  the  maiden** 
story. 


322  The  Story  of  Roland, 

"  Ah,  my  good  man  I r  cried  the  leader  of  the  band, 
"thou  hast  come  in  the  very  nick  of  time.  I  have 
long  wanted  a  good  suit  of  armor ;  and  that  which  thoe 
wearest  will  certainly  serve  me  well." 

With  a  look  of  scorn  upon  his  face,  Roland  turned, 
and  faced  the  robber  crew.  "If  you  win  these  arms/' 
said  he  to  the  leader,  "  you  shall  pay  a  dear  price  fot 
them." 

Then,  disdaining  to  use  his  sword  against  foes  so 
vile,  he  seized  a  burning  brand,  and  hurled  it  fiercely 
among  them  ;  and,  picking  up  a  heavy  table  that  stood 
close  by,  he  dealt  such  lusty  blows  about  him,  that  those 
of  the  robbers  who  were  not  entirely  disabled  were  glad 
to  save  themselves  by  a  disgraceful  flight.  He  waited 
not  to  see  whether  they  would  return  ;  but  he  took  the 
maiden  Isabella  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  out  of  her 
prison. 

"I  have  heard  of  the  Scottish  chief  Zerbino,"  said 
he.  "  He  follows  now  the  banner  of  my  cousin  Reinold 
of  Montalban ;  and  there  are  but  few  braver  knights 
than  he.  Come  with  me,  and  we  will  find  him." 

With  this  he  mounted  Brigliadoro  and  lifted  the  maiden 
to  a  place  behind  him.  Then  the  two  wended  their  way 
through  the  forest.  As  they  rode  along  the  silent  paths* 
the  stars  moved  slowly  across  the  gray  sky  above  them, 
and  the  moon  journeyed  far  to  the  west,  and  sank  ir 
the  ocean  waves  ;  and  the  red  dawn  began  to  appear  in 
the  east  And  just  as  the  sun  arose  they  found  them- 
selves standing  on  the  brow  of  a  wooded  hill,  while  in 


A  Contest  far  Durandal.  323 

the  valley  below  them  was  a  small  village,  or  cluster 
of  peasants'  houses ;  and  farther  away,  on  the  brow  of 
another  hill,  was  an  old,  half-ruined  castle. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  great  excitement  in  the  little 
tillage,  if  one  might  judge  from  the  uproar  which  waj 
i&ard.  The  dogs  were  barking ;  the  men  were  shout- 
ing, the  women  scolding,  the  children  crying ;  every  one 
was  running  hither  and  thither,  as  if  the  world  were 
coming  to  an  end.  On  the  farther  edge  of  the  village 
a  small  company  of  knights  was  seen  slowly  approach- 
ing, with  long  pennons  floating  above  them. 

"  Wait  here,"  said  Roland  to  his  fair  charge,  as  he 
helped  her  to  alight  "I  will  ride  forward,  and  see 
what  is  going  on/' 

Isabella  concealed  herself  among  the  thick  under- 
woods, while  Roland  gave  spurs  to  Brigliadoro  and  was 
soon  galloping  through  the  single  street  of  the  village. 
It  did  not  take  him  long  to  find  out  the  cause  of  the 
commotion  which  he  had  observed.  The  knights  with 
the  pennons  were  the  men  of  Count  Anselm  of  May- 
ence,  and  they  were  leading  a  prisoner  to  execution. 
The  people  were  wild  with  excitement,  and  kept  shout- 
ing, "  Death  to  the  traitor !  Off  with  him  ! " 

Roland  rode  close  up  to  the  procession  ;  and  the 
countryfolk,  being  unused  to  a  knight  of  so  noble  a 
mien,  parted  right  and  left  before  him,  and  allowed  hia: 
to  advance  until  he  was  very  near  to  the  prisoner.  You 
may  judge  of  his  surprise  when  he  saw  that  this  man 
was  none  other  than  Zerbino,  the  Scottish  cavalier  in 


324  The  Story  of  Roland. 

quest  of  whom  he  had  so  lately  set  out.  The  young  man 
was  fettered  with  ugly  chains,  and  bound  to  the  back 
of  a  draught  horse ;  and  he  sat  with  drooping  head  and 
downcast  eyes,  scarcely  noticing  the  jeers  and  threats 
of  the  rude  rabble. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  cried  Roland. 
*  What  has  this  man  done  ? " 

"  He  is  a  murderer,"  answered  one  of  the  guards. 
"Count  Pinabel,  son  of  our  master,  Anselra  of  May- 
ence,  was  found  dead  yesterday  in  the  mountain  glen ; 
and  this  is  the  man  who  slew  him." 

"  It  is  false ! '    said  Zerbino,  not  raising  his  head. 

"  It  is  true  I '  said  the  man.  "  For  he  came  last  night 
to  the  village  inn  for  lodging,  and  while  he  was  there 
the  body  of  poor  Pinabel  was  carried  in.  No  sooner 
had  this  man  come  near  than  the  wounds  of  the  slain 
knight  began  to  bleed  afresh.  There  is  no  surer  proof 
of  guilt  than  that" 

"  Ay,"  cried  the  rabble,  "  there  is  no  surer  proof !  * 

"Untie  the  man  !'  said  Roland.  And  he  swept  his 
lance  around  him,  and  knocked  a  score  of  the  rude 
fellows  prone  into  the  dust.  "  Untie  him,  and  let  him 
fol" 

Zerbino  raised  his  head,  and  turned  to  see  his  deliv- 
erer. The  crowd  of  angry  churls  fell  back,  and  began 
to  disperse.  The  rude  fellows  were  not  more  afraid  of 
the  knight's  long  lance  and  glittering  sword  than  of  his 
flashing  eye  and  towering  form.  Within  three  minutes 
the  road  was  cleared:  guards,  peasants,  and  all  wer* 


A  Contest  for  Durandal.  325 

dying  across  the  fields,  eager  to  escape  the  fury  of  the 
hero.  Roland  and  Zerbino  were  left  alone.  It  was 
but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  sever  the  cords  and  break 
the  chains  with  which  the  prisoner  was  bound  Then, 
full  of  thankfulness  for  his  unexpected  delivery  from 
death,  Zerbino  went  back  to  the  inn  where  he  had 
stopped,  and  donned  the  armor  which  had  been  taken 
from  him.  He  found  his  steed  still  feeding  in  the  stable; 
and,  having  mounted  him,  he  rode  out  of  the  village 
proudly  by  Roland's  side.  You  may  judge  of  his  sur- 
prise when  he  met  the  fair  Isabella  on  the  hilltop ;  and 
as  for  her  —  no  happier  maiden  ever  lived  than  she. 
And  the  three  friends  left  the  village  behind  them  and 
turned  their  faces  northward,  intending  to  make  their 
way  by  the  shortest  route  to  Paris. 

They  had  not  ridden  far,  however,  when  they  were 
overtaken  by  a  tali  and  powerful  knight,  clad  in  the 
richest  armor  they  had  ever  seen,  and  bearing  a  shield 
on  which  were  engraven  the  arms  of  Trojan  Hector. 
It  was  none  other  than  Mandricardo,  the  Tartar  chid 
t©  whom  Fortune  had  given  the  arms  which  Roland 
had  at  one  time  so  greatly  coveted.  Long  time  had  he 
sought  Roland,  for  he  wished  to  win  from  him  the 
doughty  blade  Durandal.  As  he  rode  up,  he  scanned 
the  two  knights  with  curious,  searching  eyes ;  but  most 
he  gazed  at  Roland ;  for  he  knew  by  his  bearing  that 
he  was  no  common  knight  At  last  he  spoke. 

**  Thou  art  the  man  I  seek/'  said  he.  "  For  ten  days 
I  have  followed  thee.  I  have  heard  of  thy  deeds,  and 


326  The  Story  of  Roland. 

I  have  sought  thcc  long,  —  first  to  see  thee,  and 
to  prove  thy  might" 

"And  how  knowe*t  thou  that  I  am  the  man?* 
asked  Roland 

"By  thy  port  and  thy  haughty  bearing/*  answered 
Mandricardo.  "I  would  know  thee  as  a  hero  among 
ten  thousand" 

"  Thou,  too,  mayst  be  a  valiant  cavalier,"  said  Roland ; 
"for  brave  desire  is  not  often  lodged  in  weak  minds. 
If  thou  wouldst  fain  see  me,  I  will  lay  aside  my  helm 
that  thou  mayst  look.  Yet  thou  must  know  that  a 
man's  heart  is  not  always  seen  in  his  face." 

He  lifted  his  helmet,  and  the  Tartar  looked  long  at 
his  noble  face. 

"  Thou  hast  gratified  my  first  wish,"  then  said  Man- 
dricardo,  "  The  second  still  remains.  Come  on,  let  us 
prove  whether  thy  valor  is  equal  to  thy  good  looks ! " 

Roland  looked  with  surprise  at  the  Tartar;  for  al- 
though he  examined  on  both  sides,  and  even  in  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle,  he  could  see  about  him  neither 
sword  nor  mace. 

"  You  have  no  sword,"  said  he  courteously,  "  How 
will  ya>u  save  yourself  if  your  lance  should  fail  ? " 

"Know  thou,"  said  the  Tartar  proudly,  "that  I  am 
Mandricardo,  and  that  I  bear  the  arms  which  great 
Hector  bore  a  thousand  years  ago.  To  them  there  is 
nothing  lacking  save  the  sword  Durandal,  which  I  am 
told  one  Roland  of  France  carries.  And  I  have  vowed 
that  never  shall  mace  or  falchion  be  wielded  by  ra? 


A   Contest  for  Dur&ncUtL  327 

hand  until  I  win  that  doughty  blade,  and  avenge  my 
father  Agrican,  whom  that  same  Roland  treacherously 
slew." 

M  Not  so  ! '  cried  Roland,  growing  angry.  **  Tfeoe 
liest !  Never  slew  I  any  man  treacherously.  I  ate 
Roland,  and  this  blade  is  Durandal,  the  sword  thou 
aeekest.  Win  it,  and  thou  shalt  have  it  See,  I  hang 
it  on  this  tree,  and  he  who  conquers  in  this  combat 
shall  have  it" 

So  saying,  he  hung  the  sword  on  the  limb  of  a  sap- 
ling close  to  the  highway;  and  the  two  knights,  turning 
their  horses,  rode  off  the  distance  of  a  bow-shot  from 
each  other.  Then,  wheeling  suddenly,  they  plied  their 
spurs,  and  rushed  together  with  a  shock  like  that  of  an 
earthquake.  The  lances  of  both  were  shivered  into  a 
thousand  pieces,  only  the  staff-ends  being  left  in  their 
hands.  With  these  club-like  fragments  they  then  en- 
gaged, beating  each  other  most  mercilessly  over  shoul- 
ders and  head.  Soon  these  weapons,  too,  were  splint- 
ered, and  the  combatants  were  without  arms.  The} 
would  have  fought  with  their  fists ;  but  wherefore,  whes 
he  who  strikes  suffers  more  than  he  who  is  smitten  ?  Ag 
a  last  resort,  they  grappled  with  each  other ;  and  the  Tar- 
tar chief  strained  Roland  to  his  bosom  as  if  he  would 
squeeze  the  breath  from  his  body.  In  his  earnest  fury 
he  thoughtlessly  dropped  the  rein  of  his  horse's  bridle, 
Roland,  sitting  firm  in  his  saddle,  saw  his  opportunity, 
and  quickly  slipped  the  bridle  from  the  horse's  head. 
The  steed,  frightened,  ard  feeling  himself  free,  started 


328  The  Story  of  Roland. 

off  with  a  bound :  little  recking  whether  his  road  were 
smooth  or  rough,  he  galloped  swiftly  away  over  fields, 
and  through  the  woodland,  carrying  his  unwilling  master 
with  him. 

Roland  waited  a  long  time  for  the  Tartar's  return,  and 
finally  bethought  him  that  he  would  follow  and  overtake 
him.  So  he  bade  Zerbino  and  Isabella  a  heartfelt  god- 
speed on  their  way  to  Paris,  and  set  out  in  search  of  his 
enemy.  For  three  days  he  sought  him,  but  all  in  vain  : 
he  could  find  no  traces  of  either  the  Tartar  or  his 
horse.  On  the  fourth  day  he  gave  up  the  venture,  and 
turned  his  face  once  more  toward  Paris  and  the  court 
of  Charlemagne,  from  which  he  had  been  long 
abaent 


How  Roland  became  his  own  Shadow.     329 


ADVENTURE  XXVIIL 


HOW  ROLAND  BECAME  HIS  OWN  SHADOW. 

IT  chanced  one  day  that  Roland  came  to  a  pleasant 
woodland,  which  was  bordered  on  one  side  by  a  meadow 
and  on  the  other  by  a  hoary  mountain.  Tall  trees  lifted 
their  heads  toward  the  sky,  seeking  the  sunlight,  and 
defying  the  storm  ;  climbing  vines  formed  many  a  pleas- 
ant arbor  among  the  trunks  and  branches  ;  and  cool 
bowers  invited  the  tired  knight  to  take  shelter  within 
them  from  the  hot  beams  of  the  midsummer  sun.  A 
mountain  brook,  whose  banks  were  bordered  with  wild- 
flowers  of  every  hue,  wound  here  and  there  among  the 
trees,  singing  on  its  way  to  the  grassy  meadow  beyond ; 
and  the  air  was  filled  with  the  smell  of  fragrant  blos- 
soms and  the  sound  of  drowsily  humming  bees.  Our 
hero  was  weary  with  his  long  journey,  and  overcome 
with  the  excessive  heat  For  many  days  he  had  been 
on  the  road,  scarcely  stopping  for  a  night's  rest,  or  to 
partake  of  needed  food.  This  grove  seemed  so  cool  and 
inviting,  that  he  determined  to  dismount  and  sit  for  a 
while  in  the  shade.  There  was  a  strange  throbbing  in 
hi«  head ;  the  blood  in  his  veins  seemed  boiling  hot ;  his 


330  The  Story  of  Roland. 

pulse  beat  hard  and  fast  He  had  never  felt  so  miser* 
ble.  He  loosened  his  helmet,  and  laid  it  upon  the 
grass;  he  knelt  down,  and  drank  a  long,  refreshing 
draught  from  the  flowing  brook;  and  then  he  bathed 
his  feverish  temples  in  the  cool  liquid,  and  lay  down 
among  the  flowers  to  rest.  By  and  by  he  arose,  but  he 
felt  not  a  whit  better  than  before.  He  looked  up  at  the 
great  trees  which  lifted  their  heads  so  high  above  him : 
he  admired  their  gnarled  branches,  and  their  smooth, 
sturdy  trunks.  On  one  of  them  he  noticed  some  strange 
letters  carved,  and  he  wondered  what  they  could  mean. 
He  went  nearer,  and  saw  that  they  formed  the  word 
"  ANGELICA."  He  thought  it  strange  that  the  name  of 
che  Cathayan  princess  should  be  engraved  in  this  out- 
of-the-way  place ;  and  yet  she  herself  might  have  carved 
it  while  resting  here  in  the  shade,  just  as  he  was  doing. 
He  walked  a  little  farther  into  the  grove,  and  saw  the 
name  again  ;  but  this  time  another — "MEDORO" —  was 
written  beneath  it.  Who  was  Medoro  ?  He  had  never 
heard  of  such  a  person,  but  the  name  had  a  Moorish 
sound  about  it.  Farther  on,  the  trees  seemed  covered 
with  these  names  written  in  every  conceivable  way, 
—  in  letters  Arabic,  Roman,  and  German,  Even  the 
rocks  were  scribbled  over  with  chalk  and  charcoal,  and 
always  with  the  words  "Angelica,  Medoro."  Filled  with 
a  nameless  feeling  of  disgust,  Roland  turned  away.  He 
mounted  his  good  Brigliadoro,  and  rode  forward  on  his 
lourney. 
But  he  did  not  ride  far,  In  the  valley  between  the 


How  Roland  became  his  own  Shadow.     331 

mountains  he  saw  blue  smoke  rising  from  a  shepherd's 
x>ttage ;  he  heard  the  bleating  of  sheep  and  lambs,  the 
lowing  of  cattle,  and  the  glad  voices  of  children.  He 
thought  that  this  would  be  a  pleasant  place  to  rest  until 
the  morrow,  and  he  determined  to  stop.  As  he  rode 
into  the  yard,  the  shepherd  met  him,  and  asked  him  to 
alight,  for  the  sun  was  sinking,  and  night  was  at  hand. 
A  boy  ran  forward,  and  led  Brigliadoro  to  the  stables, 
while  Roland  and  his  kind  host  walked  side  by  side  into 
the  house.  All  the  good  folk  of  the  cottage  were  eager 
to  serve  the  warrior.  One  took  his  shield,  another  his 
helmet,  a  third  his  cuirass,  and  a  fourth  his  golden  spurs. 
The  shepherd  himself,  with  becoming  reverence,  took 
care  of  the  dread  blade  Durandal,  all  sheathed  in  its 
gemmed  and  golden  scabbard;  and  the  good  wife 
busied  herself  in  making  ready  the  evening  meal,  —  a 
meal  such  as  should  be  worthy  of  so  noble  a  guest. 

As  Roland,  well  pleased  with  his  lodgings,  looked 
about  him,  he  was  surprised  to  sec  that  the  walls  and 
rafters  of  the  humble  dwelling  were  scribbled  over  with 
the  same  words  that  he  had  seen  on  the  trees  in  the 
groTe,  —  "ANGELICA,  MEDORO."  The  shepherd  noticed 
bis  wonderment,  and,  being  a  talkative  fellow,  was  not 
long  in  telling  him  the  whole  story  He  related  how  the 
young  Moor  had  been  sadly  wounded,  and  how  he  had 
been  nursed  back  to  life  by  the  fair  and  gentle  Princess 
of  Cathay ;  and  how,  at  length,  the  handsome  pair  had 
been  married,  and  had  gone  away  to  their  home  in  th« 
golden  East. 


332  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"  And  if  you  don't  believe  it,"  said  the  swain,  seeing 
a  strange,  wandering  look  in  the  warrior's  face,  "  I  will 
prove  the  truth  of  my  story ;  for  we  have  here  the  fail 
maiden's  bracelet.  She  gave  it  to  my  wife  as  a  keep 
sake" 

And  he  brought  from  an  inner  room  a  golden  armlet 
which  Roland  remembered  as  the  same  which  he  himself 
had  given,  long  time  before,  to  the  handsome  maiden  of 
Cathay.  He  gazed  at  the  pretty  ornament  a  moment, 
and  then  silently  gave  it  back  to  his  host.  His  eyes 
seemed  dazed ;  and  there  was  a  strange  feeling  about 
his  brows  and  temples,  such  as  he  had  never  before 
known.  His  hostess  pressed  him  to  eat  of  the  food 
which  she  placed  before  him,  —  fresh  venison  from  the 
woodland,  the  whitest  loaves  made  from  the  farmer's 
own  wheat,  wild  honey  from  the  wooded  mountain 
slopes,  and  all  the  delicacies  that  the  good  woman 
knew.  But  he  would  taste  nothing.  Somehow,  the 
words,  "Angelica,  Medoro,"  rang  in  his  ears,  and 
burned  in  letters  of  fire  before  his  eyes,  and  so  filled 
his  mind  that  he  could  think  of  nothing  else. 

Some  men  say  that  our  hero  had  been  deeply  and 
madly  in  love  with  the  Princess  of  Cathay,  and  that  alJ 
his  distress  at  this  time  was  caused  by  his  feelings  of 
disappointment.1  But  I  cannot  think  so ;  for  the  fair 
and  heroic  Alda,  the  sister  of  Oliver,  had  long  been 
betrothed  to  him,  and  waited  now  for  him  in  Paris,  and 
prayed  for  his  happy  return.  More  likely  it  was  th« 

1  So  says  Ariosto  m  the  Orlando  Furies*. 


How  Roland  became  his  own  Shadow.     333 

tiresome  journey  over  dusty  roads  and  in  the  broiling 
sunshine,  that  set  Roland's  brain  on  fire,  and  made  him 
forget  himself  so  long. 

The  best  bed  in  the  only  spare  chamber  was  given  to 
Roland,  and  there,  through  the  long  hours  of  the  night, 
he  tossed  in  pain  ;  and  whether  he  closed  his  eyes,  or 
gazed  about  the  room,  those  two  fatal  words,  "  Angelica, 
Medoro,"  were  ever  present  to  his  sight.  The  morning 
came ;  and  still  the  warrior  lay  upon  his  bed,  but  not 
in  pain.  His  mind  wandered  far  away  to  his  mother 
the  gentle  Bertha,  or  to  Alda  his  betrothed ;  or  some- 
times he  thought  himself  in  the  din  of  battle,  righting 
manfully  for  the  king  and  sweet  France  ;  or  he  dreamed 
that  he  was  again  in  Fairyland,  among  the  cooling  water- 
falls and  shady  groves,  listening  to  the  songs  of  the  birds 
and  the  hum  of  the  bees  and  the  gay  music  of  the  fairies. 
Day  after  day  he  lay  in  the  quiet,  darkened  chamber, 
carefully  watched  and  tended  by  the  good  shepherd  and 
his  wife.  And  more  than  once  did  he  step  down  very 
near  to  the  dark  door  of  death,  but  good  nursing  and 
ceaseless  care  saved  him.  Little  by  little,  he  grew 
stronger  and  stronger ;  yet  he  was  not  the  same  Roland, 
He  did  not  know  where  he  was :  he  fancied  the  humble 
room  wherein  he  lay  to  be  a  lofty  chamber  in  some 
grand  castle ;  and,  instead  of  the  good  host  and  hostess, 
he  saw  by  his  bedside  his  brother  knights  and  ready 
squires  and  pages  in  waiting.  And  when,  one  day,  the 
kind  housewife  drew  aside  the  curtains,  and  allowed  him 
to  look  out  over  the  meadows,  and  the  fields  of  ripening 


334  The  Story  of  Roland. 

corn,  he  thought  himself  again  a  barefoot  boy,  wander- 
ing among  the  byways  of  Sutri  and  longing  for  the 
time  when  he  should  be  one  of  Charlemagne's  peers. 
And  the  country  folk  could  not  understand  why  it  was 
that,  while  his  body  grew  hale  and  strong  again,  his 
mind  still  remained  clouded. 

"  I  am  not  the  Roland  whom  you  think  me  to  be," 
he  said.  "That  Roland  is  dead,  and  I  am  his  shadow." 

One  day,  after  he  had  gotten  strong  enough  to  sit  up, 
he  amazed  his  host  by  calling  for  his  armor. 

"The  king  is  in  danger,"  he  cried.  "I  must  ride  to 
the  rescue." 

He  donned  his  coat  of  mail,  and  put  on  his  greaves 
and  his  helmet.  The  shepherd's  wife  buckled  on  his 
golden  spurs ;  and  the  shepherd  brought  him  his  shield 
and  his  good  sword  Durandal. 

"  Where  now  is  my  horse  Brigliadoro  ? "  he  asked. 
44  Without  him,  I  shall  fare  but  ill  on  the  battlefield." 

They  had  hoped,  that,  after  his  arms  were  girded  on 
him,  he  would  forget  this  last  illusion  ;  and  they  tried 
to  persuade  him  that  the  king  was  in  no  need  of  help, 
But  he  would  not  listen.  He  must  have  his  steed,  and 
he  Jnust  ride  at  once  to  Charlemagne.  The  peasant's 
son  led  the  horse,  all  caparisoned  in  steel  and  gold,  to 
trie  cottage  door.  The  noble  beast  was  impatient  for  a 
canter  across  the  plains,  or  another  encounter  in  the 
tourney  or  on  the  battlefield ;  and  he  neighed  with 
pleasure  at  sight  of  his  master.  The  knight  mounted 
him,  and  rode  down  the  hill-slope  toward  the  WQoded 


CO 

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How  Rolana  became  hu  own  Shadow*     335 

4ttCV^a0«MMHi^^B^H^H^H^M*^MMMHMMHMMMMMMMMHM»MaM^«MBWM^BMBVV«M^BMMIM««M«BB«^^ 

plain  and  the  meadow.  The  way  led  him  through  the 
grove  where  he  had  stopped  and  rested  on  that  after- 
noon when  last  he  was  himself.  He  saw  the  trees  and 
the  rocks  still  bearing  the  words,  "Angelica,  Medoro;" 
and  a  nameless  fuiy  filled  his  soul  He  fancied  now 
that  he  was  in  the  thick  of  battle,  and  that  giant  foes 
beset  him  on  every  side.  He  drew  his  sword,  and  smote 
madly  about  him.  Wherever  he  saw  the  hated  names 
engraved,  there  he  hacked  and  cut,  until  not  a  single 
letter  remained.  He  alighted  from  his  horse,  and  hewed 
down  the  underbrush,  and  filled  the  mountain  brook  with 
stones  and  turf.  And  after  he  had  exhausted  all  his 
strength  he  seemed  to  grow  calmer.  He  stopped,  and 
stood  a  long  time,  as  if  in  thought. 

"  I  am  not  the  Roland  whom  some  take  me  to  be," 
he  said,  speaking  to  himself.  "  I  am  only  the  shadow 
of  that  knight,  and  shadows  need  no  arms."  And 
then,  moved  by  a  sudden  freak  of  madness,  he  threw 
his  sword  upon  the  ground :  he  rushed  from  one  part 
of  the  wood  to  another,  all  the  while  loosening  and  tear- 
ing off  his  armor.  In  one  place  he  left  his  shield,  and 
in  another  his  helmet;  while  farther  awy  he  doffed, 
one  by  one,  his  gauntlets  and  his  greaves,  his  breast- 
plate, and  lastly  his  golden  spurs.  Then,  with  loud 
cries  that  were  echoed  among  the  mountains,  and  even 
carried  back  to  the  kind  peasant's  cottage,  he  strode  aim- 
lessly away,  nobody  knew  whither.  Well  was  it,  that 
in  those  dark  and  troublous  times  people  were  wont  to 
look  with  awe  upon  the  madman,  and  regard  him  as  one 


336  The  Story  of  Roland. 

specially  protected  by  Heaven ;  for,  had  it  been  other- 
wise, the  sad  shadow  of  Roland  would  have  fared  but 
badly,  wandering  alone  through  strange  and  unfriendly 
lands. 

It  happened,  not  long  after  this,  that  a  knight  and  a 
lady  rode  by  that  way.  The  knight  was  Zerbino,  the 
Scottish  cavalier;  and  the  lady  was  the  fair  Isabella. 
As  they  approached  the  woodland,  they  were  surprised 
to  find  the  golden  spurs  of  Roland  lying  in  the  dust  by 
the  roadside.  A  little  farther  on,  they  saw  other  pieces 
of  his  armor,  and  lastly  his  shield  and  sword.  And  as 
they  looked  about  them,  wondering  what  all  this  meant, 
they  espied  the  good  steed  Brigliadoro,  calmly  grazing 
in  the  meadow,  his  bridle  reins  hanging  loose  from  the 
saddle-bow.  They  noticed  that  the  trees  around  them 
had  been  strangely  hacked  and  hewed,  and  that  the 
grass  and  flowers  had  been  rudely  trampled  down ;  but 
they  could  see  no  signs  of  bloodshed,  nor  of  any  con- 
flict with  arms.  The  longer  they  paused  and  studied 
about  this  matter,  the  more  puzzled  they  became. 

While  yet  they  stood,  uncertain  what  to  do,  the  shep- 
herd's son  came  down  the  road,  on  bis  way  to  the  sheep 
pasture.  He  stopped,  and  told  them  the  whole  story  of 
Roland's  long  illness,  and  of  the  strange  madness  which 
had  seized  upon  him. 

"Alas!'  said  Zerbino,  "our  brave  friend  is  no  longer 
himself.  Yet,  when  his  fury  is  all  spent,  his  senses  may 
return  to  him,  and  he  will  need  his  good  arms.  We  will 
take  care  that  they  are  not  lost/' 


How  Roland  became  his  own  Shadow.     337 

Then  he  carefully  gathered  up  all  the  pieces  of  that 
matchless  armor,  and  hung  them  on  the  branches  of 
a  pine  tree  by  the  roadside.  And  beneath  them  he 
carved  in  the  soft  bark  these  words :  "THESE  ARE  THB 
ARMS  OF  ROLAND."  And  he  knew  that  no  true  knight 
who  read  this  inscription  would  remove  or  disturb  them. 
When  he  had  done  all  that  could  be  done  for  the  honor 
of  his  noble  friend,  Zerbino  remounted  his  steed ;  and, 
leading  Brigliadoro  behind  them,  he  and  the  fair  Isabella 
went  on  their  way. 

Scarcely  were  the  Scottish  knight  and  his  companion 
well  out  of  sight,  when  the  sound  of  clattering  hoofs 
and  ringing  armor  was  heard  far  down  the  road ;  and 
the  shepherd's  boy,  who  still  lingered  near  the  pine, 
admiring  the  richness  and  beauty  of  Roland's  armor, 
saw  a  tall  knight  riding  fast  toward  the  spot  He  was 
mounted  on  a  white  steed,  and  was  clad  in  a  coat-of- 
mail  whose  brightness  rivalled  that  of  the  sun.  On  his 
arm  he  bore  a  shield  of  great  splendor,  and  his  crested 
helmet  glistened  with  many  a  jewel.  Yet  he  wore  no 
sword  at  his  side  ;  and  his  lance,  which  was  new,  seemed 
a  very  inferior  one.  This  knight  was  Mandricardo  the 
Tartar  chief.  When  he  saw  Roland's  arms  hanging 
upon  the  pine,  he  halted,  and  drew  near  to  read  the 
inscription.  Twice  he  read  it ;  and  then,  to  make  sure 
that  there  was  no  mistake,  he  scanned  with  great  care 
every  piece  and  part  of  the  armor,  but  looked  most  at 
the  sword  Durandal. 

« Ha!"  cried  he  in  great  delight  "this  is  indeed  the 
blade  of  Troian  Hector.1* 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


He  drew  it  from  its  scabbard,  and  looked  with  pleased 
eyes  upon  its  fire  edge,  and  read  the  quaint  inscription 
on  its  side.  He  admired  its  jewelled  hilt,  and  tested  its 
temper  by  bending  its  blade  into  a  perfect  circle,  and  by 
hewing  the  trees  and  rocks  around  him.  Then  he  turned 
suddenly  toward  the  trembling  boy. 

"  How  came  this  armor  here  ?  "  he  asked  in  tones  of 
thunder. 

The  boy  told  him  the  story  of  Roland's  madness,  and 
how  he  had  thrown  his  armor  away  and  run  roaring 
into  the  forest  ;  and  how  Zerbi.no  had  picked  up  the 
pieces  and  hung  them  on  the  pine. 

"  I  understand  it  all,"  said  the  Tartar  "The  felloe 
is  not  mad  :  he  is  only  feigning.  He  has  left  his 
armor  here  only  because  he  knew  that  he  was  not  strong 
enough  to  keep  the  sword  Durandal.  He  is  afraid  to 
make  trial  of  arms  with  me  again,  and  he  has  taken  this 
plan  to  present  the  sword  to  its  rightful  owner.  I  shall 
take  it,  but  small  thanks  shall  I  render  to  him." 

Then  he  unbuckled  the  scabbard  and  the  jewelled 
belt,  and  fastened  them  to  his  own  armor.  After  again 
glancing  at  the  shining  edge  and  the  richly  carved  sides 
of  Durandal,  he  quietly  returned  it  to  its  sheath.  "  My 
long  quest,"  he  said,  "  has  not  been  in  vain.  With 
Hector's  arms  complete,  who  now  can  contend  with  Man- 
dricardo  ?  "  And,  striking  spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks, 
he  turned  and  galloped  back  in  the  same  direction 
whence  he  had  come. 

In  the  mean  while  whither  wandered  the  shadow  of 


How  Roland  became  his  own  Shadow.     339 

,he  mighty  Roland  ?  Aimlessly,  as  one  walking  in  his 
sleep,  he  roamed  through  the  forests,  and  over  fields  and 
desert  wastes.  At  night  he  slept  in  the  open  air,  with 
no  shelter  but  the  blue  vault  of  heaven.  His  only  food 
was  the  wild  fruits  of  the  forest,  —  nuts  and  berries,  — 
and,  when  these  failed,  the  bark  of  trees.  He  shunned 
the  dwellings  and  faces  of  men,  and  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  his  own  manhood.  A  thousand  times  was  his 
life  in  peril,  and  a  thousand  times  did  some  mysterious 
power  shield  and  save  him.  Sometimes,  in  his  lonely 
wanderings,  he  encountered  wolves  and  bears  and  other 
fierce  beasts  of  the  wood;  but  they  harmed  him  not, 
for  they  knew  that  he  was  but  the  shadow  of  a  man. 
Sometimes  he  was  endangered  by  storms  and  floods, 
but  the  good  fairies  who  guard  the  lives  of  heroes  led 
him  safely  through  them.  And  he  wandered  in  the 
darkness  of  night  among  the  mountain  crags,  and  on 
the  edge  of  steep  cliffs,  and  amid  pitfalls  and  bottom- 
less gorges ;  but  an  unseen  Power  guided  his  footsteps, 
and  no  harm  befell  him.  Then  he  went  southward,  and 
climbed  the  Pyrenees,  and  crossed  over  into  the  country 
of  the  Spanish  Moors.  And  there  a  strange  adventure 
happened  to  him. 

Rodornont,  the  warrior  king  of  Algiers,  of  whom  I 
have  elsewhere  told  you,  had  withdrawn  into  Spain, 
breathing  words  of  bitterness  and  hate  to  all  mankind. 
He  had  done  many  very  wicked  deeds  and  slain  many 
innocent  and  hapless  folk,  and  he  was  ever  haunted  by 
the  remembrance  of  his  wrong  doings ;  and  so  he  not 


340  The  Story  of  Roland. 

only  hated  others,  but  himself  also,  and  sought  some 
means  of  escaping  from  his  gloomy,  guilty  thought!. 
So  he  caused  to  be  built  in  a  narrow  mountain  pass, 
a  tall  tower  of  solid  mason  work,  in  the  centre  of  which 
he  placed  a  little  chapel  and  the  tomb  of  some  of  his 
most  noble  victims.  On  three  sides  of  the  tower  there 
ran  a  mountain  stream,  swift  and  deep,  the  water  as 
cold  as  the  ice-cliffs  from  which  it  was  fed.  Across 
this  stream  a  wooden  bridge  was  built,  scarce  two  yards 
wide,  and  guarded  by  neither  rail  nor  banister.  Upon 
the  tower  a  sentinel  stood,  to  give  notice  when  any 
strange  knight  should  approach  the  bridge.  Rodomont 
himself  sat  in  a  narrow  chamber,  like  a  giant  in  his 
cave,  ready  to  ride  out  and  meet  any  new-comer  —  not 
with  warm  words  of  welcome,  but  with  couched  lance 
and  hoarse  cries  of  defiance;  for  he  had  vowed  that 
he  would  not  rest  until  he  should  have  the  arms  of  a 
thousand  knights  wherewith  to  deck  the  strange  tomb 
that  he  had  built.  And  he  obliged  every  one  who  came 
that  way,  either  to  fight  him  on  the  bridge,  or  to  give  up 
his  arms  to  him  as  a  trophy.  From  time  to  time,  many 
knights  had  fallen  into  his  trap.  Some,  from  mere 
bravado  and  love  of  adventure,  had  come  thither  on 
purpose  to  meet  him  in  combat  on  the  bridge ;  but  the 
greater  number  of  his  victims  were  innocent  travellers, 
who  had  been  belated  in  the  mountains,  and  had  ven 
tured  to  seek  shelter  in  his  inhospitable  tower.  Some 
had  been,  at  the  first  onset,  knocked  off  the  bridge, 
and  drowned  in  the  raging  torrent  below :  others  had 


How  Roland  became  his  own  Shadow.     341 

been  taken  captive  by  the  Algerian,  their  arms  hung  up 
as  trophies,  and  they  themselves  thrown  into  a  dun- 
geon. 

One  day  the  sentinel  called  out,  as  usual,  to  his  mas- 
ter, that  some  one  was  approaching  the  bridge.  Rodo- 
mont  quickly  mounted  his  war  steed,  and,  with  lance 
in  rest,  galloped  out  to  meet  the  intruder.  But,  when 
he  saw  what  kind  of  man  it  was  who  stood  on  the 
other  end  of  the  bridge,  he  paused.  Who  would  have 
dreamed  that  it  was  Roland  ?  His  clothing  was  mere 
tatters  and  rags ;  his  feet  were  bare ;  his  long  hair  fell 
in  tangled  masses  upon  his  shoulders.  He  glanced 
uneasily  at  the  raging  waters  beneath  him,  and  then  at 
the  high  tower  beyond ;  then  his  eyes  rested  upon  the 
mailed  warrior  who  confronted  him  at  the  other  end  of 
the  bridge,  and  some  of  the  old  fire  which  had  so  often 
amazed  his  foes  in  battle  seemed  to  flash  from  beneath 
his  shaggy  brows. 

"  Go  back  ! "  cried  Rodomont  "  Keep  off  the  bridge  1 
It  was  not  built  for  such  as  thou." 

Roland  heard  the  words,  and  dimly  understood  their 
meaning.  He  was  not  wont  to  obey  commands,  nor 
could  he  ever  brook  an  insult.  Instead  of  doing  as  the 
Algerian  bade  him,  he  walked  boldly  upon  the  bridge, 
The  angry  Rodomont  at  once  dismounted,  threw  his 
lance  to  the  ground,  and  went  forward  on  foot  to  meet 
him. 

"Turn  back,  and  save  thyself!"  he  cried.  "Thou 
art  not  worthy  to  be  touched  with  lance  or  sword ;  but, 


342  The  Story  of  Roland. 

if  thou  come  another  step,  I  will  throw  thee  into  th« 
torrent  below  us." 

Roland  said  not  a  word,  but  strode  fiercely  onward 
The  two  met  at  the  middle  of  the  bridge.  They  grap- 
pled each  other.  But  the  struggle  was  a  short  one. 
Roland  lifted  the  Algerian  giant  in  his  arms  as  if  foe 
had  been  a  child,  and  held  him  dangling  over  the  side 
of  the  bridge ;  then,  with  all  his  strength,  he  flung 
him  down  into  the  roaring  waters  below.  But  the  mad- 
man had  not  wit  enough  to*free  himself  altogether  from 
the  grasp  of  his  enemy ;  and  losing  his  balance,  he,  too, 
fell  into  the  stream.  The  waves  dashed  high  about 
them ;  but  the  water  was  deep,  and  both  escaped  being 
dashed  upon  the  rocks.  Roland  swam  at  once  to  Ine 
shore,  and  climbed  out  of  the  gorge,  and  went  on  hig 
way,  aimlessly  and  thoughtlessly  as  before,  toward  the 
south.  And  Rodomont,  after  being  drifted  far  down 
the  stream,  was  cast  upon  a  sand  bank,  whence,  with 
the  greatest  hardship,  he  at  length  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing the  shore. 

It  so  happened,  that  while  Roland  and  the  Algerian 
chief  were  struggling  on  the  bridge,  a  maiden  of 
France,  named  Flordelis,  was  passing  by.  She  had 
been  brought  up  at  Charlemagne's  court,  and  had 
known  Roland  all  her  life.  So,  when  she  saw  him  in 
his  pitiable  plight,  wrestling  with  the  fierce  Rodomont, 
she  knew,  notwithstanding  his  rags  and  his  unkempt 
hair,  that  he  was  none  other  than  the  hero  whom  all 
Christendom  mourned  as  dead.  She  watched  the  issue 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  RODOMONT. 


How  Roland  became  his  own  Shadow.     343 

•f  the  fight  with  the  greatest  anxiety ;  and  when  he 
had  fallen  into  the  stream,  and  clambered  to  the  shore 
again,  she  tried  to  approach  him  and  speak  with  him. 
But  he  fled  so  fast  through  the  mountain  pass,  that  he 
far  outstripped  the  palfrey  which  she  rode,  and  WM 
soon  out  of  sight  For  three  days  she  sought  him 
among  the  mountains  and  the  valleys ;  but  all  that  she 
could  hear  or  learn  of  him  was  that  some  Moorish 
peasants  had  seen  him,  making  his  way  with  long  and 
hasty  strides  toward  the  south.  And  so  she  gave  up 
the  search,  and  rode  back  to  France,  to  tell  Charle- 
magne and  his  peers,  that  Roland,  the  noblest  warriof 
of  them  all,  was  still  alive. 


344  The  Story  of  Roland. 


ADVENTURE  XXIX. 


A  FLIGHT  TO  THE  LAND  OF  PRESTER  JOHN. 

KING  CHARLEMAGNE  sat  in  his  council- hall,  and  the 
noblest  peers  of  the  realm  stood  before  him. 

"Who  now,  for  the  love  of  our  dear  nephew,"  said 
he,  "will  seek  for  him,  and  bring  him  back,  that  we 
may  see  him  happily  restored  to  his  right  mind  ? " 

And  Duke  Namon  answered,  "  My  lord,  such  wonder 
was  never  known,  that  a  madman  should  recover  his 
senses.  And,  however  much  we  have  loved  him,  the 
Roland  whom  we  once  knew  is  now  no  more.  Only  a 
shadow  remains  where  there  was  a  man  before." 

And  Reinold  of  Montalban  said,  "There  are  other 
knights  in  your  service  as  loyal,  as  brave,  and  as  true 
as  ever  our  cousin  Roland  was.  Trust  them  to  uphold 
your  power,  and  defend  your  kingdom." 

And  Ganelon,  the  old  traitor,  smiled,  and  said,  "Me- 
thinks  that  this  Roland  is  now  well  out  of  our  way, 
and  that  we  shall  nevermore  hear  it  said,  *  Behold  the 
king's  nephew,  —  the  knight  without  fear  and  without 
reproach  1 ' " 

But  Oliver  said,  "  My  lord,  I  will  follow  my  brothc? 


A  Flight  to  the  Land  of  Prester  John.     345 

to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  rather  than  not  find  him.  I 
will  bring  him  back  to  France,  to  his  home  and  his 
kindred  and  those  who  love  him,  that  through  their 
care  and  kindness  he  may  be  healed," 

And  Astolpho,  the  poet  knight,  said,  "  I  also  will  g* 
in  search  of  the  lost  hero ;  for  although  I  have  neithei 
the  strength  nor  the  skill  of  a  warrior,  yet  who  knows 
but  that  my  fancy  in  its  highest  flights  may  discover 
the  lost  senses  of  Roland,  and  bring  them  back  to  their 
owner  ?  ' 

Then  Oliver  and  Astolpho  mounted  their  steeds  and 
rode  away  ;  and  they  pledged  themselves  that  they  would 
never  come  back  to  France,  nor  undertake  any  other 
adventure,  until  they  should  find  Roland,  and  see  him 
whole  again  in  mind  and  worthy  to  be  called  the  peer- 
less knight 

Now,  it  chanced  that  Astolpho  owned  a  wonderful 
winged  horse,  —  the  same  creature  that  had  once  be- 
longed to  Atlantes,  the  Moorish  wizard.  Astolpho  had 
long  kept  this  steed,  with  care  and  secrecy,  in  his  own 
castle  among  the  mountain  peaks,  where  the  wild  eagles 
•oared,  and  the  air  was  fresh  and  pure,  and  the  busy  hum 
of  the  laboring  world  was  seldom  heard.  Sometimes, 
merely  to  amuse  himself,  the  knight  had  mounted  his 
winged  courser  and  taken  short  flights  into  fairyland, 
or  soared  aloft  toward  the  sun.  And  he  had  often 
thought,  that  when  Charlemagne's  wars  were  over,  and 
he  was  no  longer  needed  either  at  court  or  in  the  field, 
he  would  take  a  longer  flight  and  stop  not  until  he  had 


346  The  Story  of  Rolatid. 

reached  the  farthest  boundaries  of  the  earth.  So,  now, 
he  hastened  back  to  his  mountain  castle,  resolved  to 
make  use  of  the  winged  steed  in  his  search  for  the  lost 
bero. 

At  Astolpho's  command  the  wondrous  horse  was  lecl 
out  of  the  marble  halls,  where  he  had  been  stabled,  and 
accoutred  for  a  flight  longer  than  any  he  had  ever  yet 
taken.  It  was  early  morning.  The  sun  was  rising  drip- 
ping from  the  waters  of  the  great  midland  sea.  The 
crags  and  peaks  shone  like  burnished  silver  against 
the  dark-blue  sky.  The  crimson  clouds  turned  golden, 
and  then  melted  away  into  nothingness.  The  moun- 
tain eagles  flew  down  from  their  rock-built  eyries,  and 
screamed  around  the  hero  and  his  steed,  and  then  soared 
high  toward  heaven,  as  if  daring  him  to  a  loftier  flight. 
Astolpho  vaulted  into  the  saddle.  The  noble  steed 
spread  his  wings,  and  leaped  into  the  air.  Upward  and 
still  upward  he  soared,  until  the  green  fields  of  France, 
and  the  rugged  mountains  and  the  snow-crowned  peaks 
dwindled  almost  out  of  sight.  The  screaming  eagles 
were  left  tar  behind,  the  great  sun  seemed  not  much 
higher.  The  whole  earth  was  transformed  into  a  scene 
of  beauty  such  as  the  knight  had  seldom  dreamed  of. 
Swset  France  lay  directly  beneath  him,  spread  out  like 
&  map,  its  rivers  and  mountains  and  forests  and  fields 
dimly  outlined  in  the  hazy  distance.  To  his  right  was 
fair  Spain,  bounded  on  three  sides  by  the  sea,  and  on 
the  fourth  by  the  great  wall  of  the  Pyrenees.  In  front 
of  him  was  the  midland  sea,  stretching  away  and  away. 


A  Flight  to  the  Land  of  Pr ester  John.     347 

as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  until  its  shining  waters 
seemed  hidden  behind  the  sun.  And  there  he  saw  vine- 
clad  Italy  basking  in  the  morning  light ;  and  farther  away 
lay  the  isles  of  Greece,  where  the  gods  in  the  golden 
time  taught  men  the  sweet  secrets  of  music  and  song. 

And  the  winged  steed  sailed  onward  toward  the  rising 
sun,  faster  than  falcon  or  swiftest  bird  that  flies.  Over 
the  midland  sea  he  flew,  and  over  many  strange  coun- 
tries, and  amid  many  beautiful  scenes.  He  came  to  the 
land  where  grow  the  date  and  the  palm ;  he  soared  above 
the  shaggy  tops  of  the  Atlas  Mountains,  and  the  Great 
Desert,  which  lies  sultry  and  bare  beyond  ;  he  winged 
his  way  over  Nubia  and  the  land  of  the  Pyramids  and 
the  Nile.  Yet  Astolpho  allowed  not  his  steed  to  stop. 
He  had  heard  of  another  land  still  farther,  where  he 
hoped  to  learn  tidings  of  the  sad-minded  Roland.  From 
Egypt,  his  course  now  lay  southward :  he  followed  the 
great  River  Nile  even  to  its  mysterious  head-spring, 
and  over  the  boundless  regions  of  Ethiopia  he  directed 
his  flight  He  came  at  length  to  the  wondrous  realm 
ruled  by  the  mighty  Prester  John,  and  there  his  steed 
alighted. 

The  land  in  which  Astolpho  now  found  himself 
seemed  to  be  a  very  paradise  of  delights.  It  was  gov- 
erned by  an  ancient  Christian  prince,  whose  birth  and 
lineage  were  unknown,  and  whose  dominion  stretched 
eastward  to  India,  and  southward  to  the  great  sea.  IB 
that  land  every  man  was  a  hero,  —  not  one  who  wins  a 
name  and  fame  through  bloodshed  or  on  the  battlefield, 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


but  one  whose  heart  is  free  from  guile,  whose  brain 
is  clear,  whose  every  deed  is  noble.  In  that  land  there 
were  temples  and  palaces  and  cities  surpassing  in  riches 
and  beauty  any  thing  that  Astolpho  had  ever  before  seen 
There  every  kind  of  gem-stone  was  found,  •  —  emeralds, 
sapphires,  carbuncles,  onyxes,  and  beryls  ;  and  gold 
was  more  plentiful  than  iron.  There,  too,  every  strange 
and  useful  animal  lived.  It  was  the  home  of  the  ele- 
phant, the  camel,  the  white  and  red  lion,  the  white 
bear,  the  wild  horse,  the  wild  ox.  There,  also,  roamed 
those  wondrous  creatures  of  which  we  read  in  the  old 
myth-stories  of  Greece,  such  as  centaurs  and  fauns  and 
satyrs  and  pygmies  and  strange  chimeras.  And  there 
dwelt  the  phoenix,  that  solitary  bird,  which,  after  living 
a  thousand  years,  burns  itself  on  its  own  funeral  pile, 
and  afterward  rises  with  renewed  youth  from  the  ashes.1 

Near  the  place  where  Astolpho  first  alighted  there 
was  a  garden,  and  in  the  garden  was  a  fountain.  On 
either  side  of  the  fountain  sat  two  saintly  men,  who 
were  dressed  in  long  white  robes,  and  whose  hair  and 
beard  were  whiter  than  the  drifted  snow.  The*e  men, 
as  the  knight  approached,  arose  and  saluted  him, 

44  Art  thou  a  Christian  ?  "  asked  one. 

"I  am,"  answered  Astolpho,  making  the  sign  of  the 
eross. 

"Wouldst  thou  be  healed  of  all  thine  infirmities, 
whether  of  body  or  of  mind  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

*  Nothing  do  I  desire  more  greatly,"  was  the 

1  See  Note  16,  at  the  end  of  this  rcttum. 


A  Flight  to  the  Land  of  Prester  John.     349 

Standing  within  the  fountain  was  a  pure  white  stone, 
shaped  like  a  mussel  shell,  and  covered  by  a  few  inches 
of  water, 

44  If  what  thou  sayest  is  true,"  said  the  elder,  who  had 
first  spoken,  "step  now  into  this  mussel  shell." 

Astolpho  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  the  water  began 
of  its  own  accord  to  rise  about  him.  Three  times  it 
lifted  itself  and  gushed  over  his  head ;  and  then  the 
aged  men  bade  him  step  out  of  the  fountain.  As  he 
did  so,  he  felt  as  if  the  balmiest  days  of  his  youth  had 
returned,  and  that  he  should  never  again  be  oppressed 
with  weariness  or  pain. 

"Go  thou,"  said  the  elders,  "and  may  no  evil  thing 
betide  thee ! " 

Then  Astolpho  went  straight  to  the  palace  wherein 
dwelt  the  king.  The  walls  which  stood  around  this  pal- 
ace were  of  the  purest  white  marble.  The  drawbridge 
was  of  ivory,  and  the  chain  and  bolts  were  of  gold. 
The  gate  was  a  wondrous  piece  of  workmanship, 
wrought  of  precious  metals  and  costly  stones ;  and 
above  it  was  placed  the  horn  of  a  horned  snake,  so  that 
nothing  unclean  could  pass  through.  The  inner  gates 
were  of  ebony,  inlaid  with  gold.  At  each  end  of  the 
palace  was  a  high  tower ;  and  on  each  of  these  a  car- 
buncle and  an  apple  of  gold  were  placed ;  and  by  day 
the  golden  apple  shed  a  soft  radiance  over  the  palace 
and  all  the  country  around,  while  at  night  the  carbuncle 
shone  as  brightly  as  the  sun  at  noon.  The  wide  court 
yard  was  floored  with  onyx,  —  a  stone  which  gives 


35O  The  Story  of  Roland. 

strength  and  courage  to  the  feeble-hearted.  The  archi- 
traves, the  joists,  the  ceilings  of  the  palace,  were  of 
the  mystic  Sethym  wood  :  the  roof  was  of  ebony,  and 
so  built  that  fire  could  never  touch  it  Heavy  curtains, 
and  carpets  of  every  hue  and  texture,  added  comfort  to 
riches.  In  wall  and  roof  and  pavement  were  counties* 
pearls  and  purest  gems.  And  in  the  great  assembly 
hall  was  a  wondrous  mirror,  reached  by  five  and  twenty 
steps  of  porphyry  and  serpentine,  in  which  the  king 
could  see  at  a  glance  every  thing  that  was  happening 
in  every  corner  of  his  kingdom. 

No  man  knew  how  long  this  country  had  been  ruled 
by  Fresterjohn;  for,  in  a  land  so  blessed  with  every 
comfort  and  every  luxury,  the  years  were  all  golden, 
and  men  noticed  not  the  flight  of  time.  The  great 
Prester  John  kindly  welcomed  Astolpho  to  his  court, 
and  ordered  that  the  best  guestroom  in  the  palace 
should  be  made  ready  for  his  use.  But  the  knight  was 
surprised  to  see,  that,  although  the  king  was  surrounded 
with  every  thing  that  could  add  to  one's  happiness, 
there  was  an  air  of  sadness  on  his  face,  as  if  he  were 
liarassed  by  some  fearful  evil  which  he  could  not  escape 

It  so  happened  that  the  day  was  a  great  feast  day, 
when  all  the  earls  and  noblemen  in  the  kingdom  were 
bidden  to  court,  and  a  rich  banquet  was  to  be  served 
in  the  hall.  And  Astolpho  was  invited  to  sit  at  table 
with  the  rest 

"  I  hope,  indeed,  that  they  will  not  come  to-day,"  tha 
king  was  overheard  saying  *o  one  of  his  courtiers, 


A  Flight  to  the  Land  of  Pr ester- John.    351 

And  the  knight  wondered  who  it  could  be  whose  com- 
pany was  so  undesirable. 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  guests  were  led  into  tkc 
banquet  chamber,  There  the  ceilings  were  very  high 
and  vaulted,  the  windows  were  large,  and  the  doors 
were  broad.  The  floor  was  waxed  and  polished  until  it 
shone  like  a  mirror.  The  tables  were  of  ebony,  inlaid 
with  amethyst  and  gold,  and  supported  upon  legs  of 
ivory.  Astolpho  was  seated  on  a  raised  platform  at 
the  right  hand  of  the  king ;  and  the  noblest  men  of  the 
realm  —  dukes,  earls,  archbishops,  and  bishops  —  sat 
near  him.  While  the  attendants  were  placing  the  food 
before  them,  the  king,  pale  and  trembling,  as  if  fearing 
some  great  danger,  told  Astolpho  the  story  of  his  sad 
misery. 

"  You  would  think,"  said  he,  "  that  a  man  living  in 
the  midst  of  all  these  delights  would  be  supremely 
happy.  And  yet  I  am  the  most  miserable  of  earth's 
creatures.  I  will  tell  you  why.  Far  to  the  south  there 
is  a  beautiful  mountain,  the  like  of  which  is  found  in  no 
other  land.  On  that  mountain,  it  is  said,  there  is  ever- 
lasting spring ;  and  there  old  age  is  unknown,  and  death 
never  comes.  Long  was  it  my  wish  to  discover  that 
earthly  paradise,  and  long  did  I  aspire  to  add  it  to  the 
kingdoms  of  my  realm.  At  last,  in  an  evil  hour,  I  mar- 
shalled my  hosts,  and  with  a  noble  array  of  knights  and 
lord*  I  marched  across  the  southern  desert,  determined 
to  carry  my  banners  to  the  very  summit  of  that  famoui 
mountain.  But  when  we  reached  it,  sad  was  our 


35*  The  Story  of  Roland. 

appointment  The  white  cliffs  rose  up  before  us,  like  the 
walls  of  a  great  city ;  and,  when  we  tried  to  scale  them, 
the  rocks  rolled  down  upon  our  heads ;  the  dark  gorges 
opened  and  swallowed  up  my  warriors ;  fire  and  smoke 
belched  forth  from  the  peaks ;  and  rivers  of  melted  rock 
poured  down  upon  us.  And  then  I  heard  a  voice  saying, 
1  Think  not,  vain  man,  to  pry  into  the  secret  things  of 
the  Most  High.  Go  back  into  thine  own  country,  and 
be  thankful  that  thy  life  is  spared/  Then  I  turned,  and 
fled  with  all  speed  from  that  forbidden  ground.  And,  of 
all  the  mighty  host  that  had  gone  with  me  thither,  not 
more  than  a  tenth  returned  with  me  to  this  land.  And 
the  Harpies,  who  since  the  days  of  Jason  and  the  Argo- 
nauts had  been  penned  up  in  the  cave  of  the  Winds, 
were  freed  from  their  prison,  and  sent  to  harass  me 
every  day  of  my  life.  And  now,  like  Phineus  of  old, 
I  am  miserable  in  the  midst  of  delights,  I  am  tormented 
with  hunger  while  all  around  me  is  plenty ;  for  no  sooner 
is  my  table  ready,  than  those  loathsome  creatures  swoop 
down,  and  snatch  the  food  from  my  plate,  and  leave  me 
naught  to  satisfy  my  hunger.  It  is  thus  that  Heaven 
punishes  him  who  would  lay  hands  upon  forbidden 
things." 

The  king  had  scarcely  finished  speaking,  when  Astoi- 
pho  heard  a  strange  noise  above  them,  like  the  whirring 
of  many  wings  in  the  upper  air.  The  old  king  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands,  and  cried  out,  "They  comet 
there  is  no  ridding  ourselves  of  them  "  And  many  of 
the  guests  arose  and  fled  from  the  hak. 


THE  HARPIES. 


A  Flight  to  the  Land  of  Prester  John.    353 

Then,  through  doors  and  windows,  the  Harpies  came 
flying  in.  Seven  in  number  were  they,  —  pale-faced, 
blear-eyed,  with  long  crooked  talons,  and  snake-like  tails 
knotted  in  many  a  fold.  Down  upon  the  feast  table  they 
swooped,  and  they  stopped  not  their  greedy  onslaught 
until  every  morsel  of  food  was  snatched  from  the  board. 
Astolpho  drew  his  sword  and  struck  manfully  about 
him ;  but  as  well  might  he  have  smitten  the  wind,  for 
the  sharpest  blade  could  not  cut  through  the  feathery 
armor  of  those  loathsome  fowls. 

"Ah,  me!"  cried  the  king,  "is  there  no  escape? 
Must  I  endure  this  torment  forever?1 

Then  Astolpho  bethought  him  of  a  horn  which  he 
carried  at  his  girdle.  The  weird  woman  Melissa  had 
given  it  to  him  long  before,  and  had  said  to  him,  "  When- 
ever your  sword  fails  you,  blow  this  horn."  So,  after 
the  king  and  all  who  were  in  the  hall  had  filled  their 
ears  with  wax,  he  lifted  it  to  his  lips  and  blew  such  a 
bugle-blast  as  had  never  before  been  heard  in  the  land 
of  Prester  John.  The  palace  itself  shook  from  turret 
to  foundation  stone ;  the  leaves  of  the  trees  quivered  as 
in  a  storm ;  the  rocks  rolled  down  the  mountain-side, 
The  Harpies,  more  affrighted  than  when,  in  the  olden 
time,  they  had  been  chased  by  the  sons  of  old  Boreas, 
flew  in  wild  dismay  from  the  hall.  Astolpho  quickly 
mounted  his  winged  charger,  and  followed  them,  blow- 
ing peal  after  peal  upon  his  wondrous  horn.  Southward 
the  creatures  flew,  across  the  great  sandy  desert ;  nor 
did  they  slacken  their  flight  until  they  reached  the 


354  F&e  Story  of  Roland, 

mountain  whereon  the  earthly  paradise  was  said  to  be 
Into  a  dark  and  narrow  cavern  in  the  mountain's  side 
they  flew,  —  the  prison  house  into  which  the  sons  of 
Boreas  had  driven  them  long  before.  And  Astolpho, 
with  trees  and  stones,  and  whatsoever  else  would  serve 
as  a  wall  or  hedge,  wedged  up  the  cavern  door ;  so  that 
never  again  shall  those  loathsome  creatures  visit  the  air 
to  torment  mankind  with  their  horrid  presence. 

And  the  poets  tell  of  many  other  wondrous  deeds 
that  Astolpho  did  in  the  land  of  Prester  John,  —  how  he 
visited  the  earthly  paradise,  and  talked  there  with  the 
patriarchs  of  old ;  how  he  flew  to  the  moon's  orb,  and 
was  shown  the  place  where  all  things  are  stored  that 
have  been  lost  on  earth ;  how  he  found  there  the  lost 
senses  of  the  unhappy  Roland,  and  brought  them  in  a 
phial  back  to  the  earth  ;  how  he  visited  the  place  where 
the  Fates  spin  the  thread  of  life,  and  weave  the  woof 
of  doom  for  every  creature ;  and  how  he  healed  the  sick, 
and  restored  sight  to  the  blind.  But,  whether  these 
stories  be  true  or  false,  I  will  not  stop  to  repeat  them  to 
you.  Let  us  hasten  to  find  the  now  long-lost  Roland. 

When  Astolpho  haa  learned  from  the  Fates  the 
whereabouts  of  Roland,  and  the  manner  in  which  that 
knight  should  be  made  himself  again,  he  went  into  the 
presence  of  Prester  John,  and  asked  a  boon  of  that  king. 

"You  shall  have  whatsoever  you  wish,"  said  the 
grateful  monarch. 

And  Astolpho  asked  that  a  band  of  warriors  should 
be  allowed  to  go  with  him  across  the  desert,  to  invade 


A  Flight  to  the  Land  of  Pr ester  John.    355 

Algeria  and  the  land  of  the  Moors,  and  thus  lend  aid 
to  his  liege-lord  Charlemagne.  The  king  was  well 
pleased  to  grant  this  request.  He  sent  forth  his  heralds 
to  bid  all  the  bravest  warriors  of  his  realm  to  come  and 
join  the  standard  of  Astolpho.  And  there  came  from 
every  mountain  stronghold  and  from  every  countryside, 
troops  of  knights  and  armed  men,  equipped  and  ready 
for  the  long  march.  Some  came  on  the  backs  of  ele- 
phants, some  on  camels  ;  but  the  greater  number  were 
on  foot,  for  there  were  no  trained  horses  in  that  country. 
But,  when  they  learned  that  they  were  expected  to 
march  across  the  Great  Desert,  they  shook  their  heads, 
and  hesitated. 

"  We  shall  never  live  to  cross  those  terrible  sands," 
said  some  :  "  for  the  South  Wind  will  come  upon  us 
like  the  breath  of  a  furnace,  and  will  scorch  the  skin  of 
our  bodies,  and  parch  our  tongues  with  thirst ;  and 
then  the  whirlwind  will  take  up  the  burning  sand  in  its 
arms,  and  hurl  it  down  upon  us,  and  bury  us  alive." 

But  others  said,  "  Cannot  he  who  has  done  such 
wonders  in  our  midst  control  even  the  South  Wind  ? 
We  vtll  trust  him." 

On  the  evening  previous  to  the  day  which  had  been 
set  for  the  march,  Astolpho  secretly  mounted  his 
winged  courser,  and  flew  away  toward  the  south.  On 
and  on  he  flew,  until  he  came  to  the  land  where  dwell 
the  summer's  heat  and  the  fierce  fire-forces.  There,  in 
a  cave,  the  South  Wind  has  her  home.  Every  day,  at 
£arly  morn,  she  comes  out  of  her  dwelling,  and  roams 


35$  The  Story  of  Roland. 

over  the  earth,  kissing  the  buds  and  blossoms,  and  caus- 
ing them  to  open  to  the  sun ;  rippling  the  waters  of  the 
lake,  and  rustling  among  the  canebrakes  and  the  corn ; 
melting  the  snow  and  the  ice  on  the  mountain  tops,  and 
laughing  with  the  rivulet  which  pours  its  waters  over 
the  rocky  ledge ;  unlocking  the  frozen  rivers,  and  send- 
ing great  icebergs  floating  out  to  sea;  speeding  the. 
heavily  laden  ships  on  their  homeward  voyage ;  stirring 
the  waves  into  fury;  and  feeding  the  death-dealing 
whirlwinds  which  sweep  over  the  desert  and  the  sea, 
Oh,  a  kind  blessing,  as  well  as  a  fearful  curse,  is  the 
South  Wind  !  When  Astolpho  came  to  her  dwelling, 
she  had  retired  to  rest.  Not  a  leaf  was  stirring  on  the 
trees,  not  a  ripple  could  be  seen  on  the  lake.  All  na- 
ture seemed  asleep.  Even  in  the  cavern  of  the  South 
Wind  no  sound  was  heard,  save  that  of  her  heavy 
breathings  as  she  lay  reposing  in  her  golden  chamber. 
A-stolpho  hearkened  a  moment,  and  then  carefully 
spread  a  magic  net  across  the  cavern's  mouth ;  so  that 
when  the  South  Wind  should  awaken  from  her  slumber, 
and  should  step  forth  from  her  dwelling,  ready  dight 
for  her  wondrous  journey  over  the  world,  she  should 
be  caught  and  held  fast  in  the  meshes.  Then  he  turned 
the  head  of  his  winged  courser,  and  was  soon  safely 
back  in  the  palace  of  Prester  John. 

At  sunrise  the  dreaded  march  across  the  desert  was 
commenced.  And  the  warriors  who  followed  Astolpho 
wondered  what  had  become  of  the  South  Wind,  and  why 
no  sand  storms  overtook  them ;  for  the  only  breeze  that 


A  Flight  to  the  Land  of  Prester  John.    357 

met  them  was  the  gentle,  cooling  West  Wind,  which 
cheered  and  strengthened  them  during  their  long  jour- 
ney. And  at  last  the  gray  peaks  of  the  Atlas  Moun- 
tains, and  the  tall  palm  trees  of  Algeria,  came  in  sight, 
and  their  perilous  march  was  at  an  end.  Then  the 
South  Wind,  who  had  at  last  rid  herself  of  the  trouble- 
some net,  came  tripping  across  the  desert  after  them. 
She  climbed  the  mountains  behind  them,  and  played 
among  the  treetops  in  the  valleys,  and  whistled  glee- 
fully in  the  glens ;  but  she  had  no  power  to  do  them  any 
harm. 

In  the  old  poems,  you  may  read  wonderful  stories 
of  the  manner  in  which  Astolpho  supplied  his  foot- 
soldiers  with  steeds  by  turning  stones  into  horses ;  of 
how  he  routed  Agramant  and  the  other  Saracen  chiefs 
in  battle ;  of  how  Charlemagne,  hearing  of  his  exploits, 
crossed  the  sea,  and  laid  siege  to  Africa ;  and  of  many 
wondrous  feats  of  arms  performed  by  the  Christian 
knights.  Let  us  return  to  the  pitiable  fortunes  of  our 
hero. 

Wandering  aimlessly  from  place  to  place,  as  if  drawn 
by  some  unseen  hand,  Roland  advanced  each  day 
farther  and  farther  south.  At  length  he  came  to  a 
little  seaport  town.  The  Straits  lay  before  him,  and 
beyond  them  was  Africa.  He  was  possessed  with  a 
mad  wish  to  go  onward,  forever  southward ;  and  he  felt 
that  neither  mountains  nor  seas  should  hinder  him, 
A  ship  had  just  left  the  shore,  with  a  party  of  Moorish 
soldiers  on  board.  He  rushed  to  the  water's  edge,  call 


358  The  Story  of  Roland. 

ing  to  the  sailors  to  come  back,  and  take  him  into  the 
vessel.  But  they,  seeing  his  ragged  clothing,  and  his 
wild,  furious  gestures,  guessed  rightly  that  he  was  some 
poor  maniac,  and  paid  not  any  attention  to  his  cries. 
When  Roland  found  that  the  vessel  would  neither  turn 
back  nor  wait  for  him,  he  leaped  madly  into  the  sea,  as 
if  determined  to  swim  across.  Long  and  manfully  did 
he  buffet  the  waves,  now  rising  high  on  the  top  of  a 
swell,  and  now  sinking  deep  into  the  trough  of  the  sea. 
Both  the  land  and  the  ship  were  out  of  sight ;  but  still 
he  struggled  onward,  knowing  only  that  his  life  de- 
pended upon  his  keeping  his  head  above  the  water. 
Yet  he  certainly  would  have  been  drowned,  had  not 
another  vessel  hove  that  way.  The  valiant  swimmer 
was  taken  on  board  and  carried  across  the  Straits :  for 
the  Moorish  knights  who  were  in  the  ship  pitied  his 
forlorn  case ;  and,  when  they  reached  their  own  shores, 
they  allowed  him  to  wander  whithersoever  he  would 

It  happened  at  this  time,  that  the  Christian  hosts, 
with  Charlemagne  and  Astolpho,  were  encamped  not  far 
from  the  sea,  waiting  for  ships  and  a  fair  wind  to  bear 
them  back  to  France.  One  day  a  strange  man,  ragged 
and  tanned,  came  suddenly  into  the  camp.  He  turned 
not  aside  for  any  thing  that  stood  in  his  way.  He 
hurled  the  warriors  right  and  left  from  his  path;  he 
overturned  the  tents;  he  frightened  the  horses;  he 
threw  every  thing  into  a  panic.  Astolpho  and  the 
knights  who  were  with  him  seized  their  weapons,  and 
ran  hastily  out  to  see  what  was  going  on.  You  may 


A  Flight  to  the  Land  of  Prester  John.     359 

judge  of  their  wonder  and  delight  when  they  found 
that  this  strange  madman  was  their  old.  friend  and 
somrade,  Roland.  By  Astolpho's  orders,  they  closed 
around  him,  and  seized  him  from  behind.  Fiercely  he 
struggled ;  and  ill  would  his  assailants  have  fared,  had 
not  their  armor  protected  them  from  his  mad  blows, 
At  length  he  was  thrown  to  the  ground  and  bound 
hand  and  foot.  Then  the  good  Astolpho  took  the  pre- 
cious phial  of  sense  which  he  had  carried  so  long  and 
so  carefully,  and  held  it  beneath  the  madman's  nose. 

A  great  change  came  over  Roland.  His  unsettled 
mind  at  once  regained  its  firmness,  and  his  understand 
ing  became  as  strong  and  as  clear  as  it  had  been  of 
yore.  He  gazed  about  him,  like  one  who  wakes  from  a 
dream  and  finds  himself  in  a  strange  place.  He  saw 
Astolpho  and  Oliver  and  Ogier  standing  over  hirn,  and 
he  wondered  why  it  was  that  he  lay  bound  and  unarmed 
upon  the  beach.  Then  the  wild,  vacant  look  passed 
from  his  face,  and  he  seemed  as  calm  and  as  composed 
as  he  had  been  in  his  happiest  days.  His  friends  knew 
that  his  madness  had  left  him.  They  quickly  unbound 
hirn  and  raised  him  to  his  feet  They  led  him  to  Astol- 
pho's  tent,  and  clothed  him  in  raiment  becoming  the 
noblest  of  knights,  and  told  him  the  strange  story  of 
his  madness.  And  the  next  day  a  feast  and  a  tourna- 
ment were  held  in  his  honor,  and  the  good  Archbishop 
Turpin  offered  a  public  thanksgiving  for  the  happy 
return  of  the  wanderer.  And  many  stories  are  told 
erf  Roland's  prowess  while  yet  the  French  army  was 


360  The  Story  of  Roland. 

delayed  in  Africa,  —  how,  single-handed,  he  defeated 
three  kings  in  a  deadly  passage  at  arms,  and  by  so 
doing  saved  the  life  of  his  brother  Oliver ;  how  he  re- 
gained by  force  the  matchless  helmet  which  Ferrau  had 
carried  away ;  how  he  won  also  for  himself  the  sword 
Durandal,  which  Mandricardo  the  Tartar  had  stolen; 
and  how,  in  every  case,  he  dealt  wisely  and  uprightly, 
and  never  sought  undue  advantage  over  his  foes. 


Haw  the  Peers  returned  to  France.      361 


ADVENTURE  XXX. 


HOW  THE  PEERS  RETURNED  TO  FRANCE. 

WHEN  Charlemagne  and  his  host  embarked  for 
France,  the  sky  was  fair  and  the  sea  was  calm.  But 
soon  a  storm  arose.  The  waves  ran  mountain-high,  the 
ships  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  winds.  The  king  and 
his  peers  sat  together  in  the  same  vessel ;  and  the 
heroes  who  had  faced  unflinching  the  dangers  of  a 
hundred  fierce  battles,  now  felt  their  hearts  sinking 
with  fear. 

"  I  know  well  the  art  of  the  tourney  and  the  battle," 
cried  Roland,  the  peerless  chief ;  "  but  what  avails  that 
art  here  in  this  wilderness  of  waves  ? " 

And  Ogier  the  Dane,  said,  "  I  know  how  to  wield  the 
sword,  and  how  to  touch  the  harp  and  bring  forth  sweet 
melody ;  but  such  knowledge  is  of  little  use  to  quell  the 
fury  of  these  winds." 

Then  Oliver,  the  look  of  gladness  all  faded  from  his 
eyes,  drew  his  sword  from  its  scabbard,  and,  gazing 
tenderly  at  its  flashing  edge,  said,  "  No  fear  have  I  for 
myself,  but  I  grieve  that  Haultclear  shall  find  so  in- 
glorious a  grave." 


362  Tke  Story  of  Roiana* 

"  If  I  only  knew  a  way  to  save  myself,"  said  Ganelon, 
—  but  he  said  it  very  low,  —  "  little  would  I  reck  what 
evil  fortune  befell  the  rest  of  you." 

The  good  Archbishop  Turpin  sighed  deeply,  and  said, 
"We  are  the  warriors  of  Heaven's  kingdom.  Come 
thou  on  the  waves,  sweet  Saviour,  and  deign  to  deliver 
as  from  peril." 

Said  Sir  Richard  of  Normandy,  "Wait  for  me,  ye 
demons  !  Long  and  well  have  I  served  you,  and  soon 
trill  I  be  with  you." 

"I  have  given  wise  counsel  to  many,"  gravely  re- 
marked Duke  Namon  ;  "  but  in  the  salt  sea  good  words 
of  advice  are  as  rare  and  as  little  needed,  as  sweet 
water  or  pleasant  fruit." 

Then  good  father  Riol  said,  "  An  oid  warrior  ani  I, 
and  not  much  longer  can  I  live  in  any  case.  And  yet  I 
would  fain  finish  my  course  by  leaving  my  oid  body 
upon  dry  land,  rather  than  by  losing  it  in  this  watery 
waste." 

And  Sir  Guy,  the  courteous  chevalier,  sought  to  con- 
ceal his  terror  by  singing,  — 

« I  would  I  were  a  little  bird  I 
Quickly  to  my  nest  I'd  fly." 

Then  Garin,  the  lover  of  good  cheer,  said,  "May 
Heaven  save  us  from  pain  I  Pleasanter  by  far  would  it 
be  to  drink  a  single  cup  of  red  wine  than  to  treat  one's 
self  to  all  the  water  in  the  sea." 

And  Sir  Lambert,  the  witty,  responded,  "  Be  sure  we 


Haw  the  Peers  returned  to  France.       363 

shall  not  be  forgotten  1  Yet  happier  would  I  be  to  eat 
one  good  fish,  however  small,  than  to  be  devoured  by 
that  same  fish." 

"  For  me,"  said  Duke  Godfrey,  the  noble,  "  I  accept 
my  lot  Happy  am  I  in  knowing  that  I  shall  fare  no 
worse  than  those  who  are  better  than  I." 

All  this  time  King  Charlemagne  stood  at  the  helm, 
He  spoke  not  a  word  ;  but  he  guided  the  vessel  with  a 
strong  hand,  until  at  length  the  fury  of  the  waves  was 
exhausted  And,  behold !  the  shores  of  their  own  loved 
France  lay  before  the  sea-tossed  warriors,  fragrant  with 
the  odor  of  blossoms  and  of  the  ripe  summer  fruit1 

As  the  king  and  his  knights  rode  homeward  between 
the  vineyards  and  the  rich  fields  with  which  the  peaceful 
country  was  now  everywhere  covered,  the  people  greeted 
them  with  glad  shouts  and  heartfelt  blessings.  And  as 
they  drew  near  the  city  of  Pans,  the  fair  home  from 
which  they  had  been  absent  so  long,  a  noble  company 
of  knights  and  ladies  came  out  to  welcome  them; 
and  together  they  entered  the  city  gates.  The  streets 
were  strewn  with  garlands  and  green  leaves  and  fra- 
grant roses ;  from  every  tower  and  every  housetop,  gay 
banners  floated  in  the  breeze;  young  maidens  walked 
before  them,  singing  triumphal  songs ;  and  all  the  peo- 
ple shouted  for  joy.  At  every  turn  of  the  street  gor- 
geous arches  had  been  built,  where  were  displayed  the 
trophies  taken  in  war,  and  many  an  inscription  relating 

1  See  Note  17  at  the  end  of  this  volume. 


364  The  Story  of  Roland. 

to  the  deeds  of  the  returning  heroes.  And  tbe  whole 
city  was  given  up  to  merry-making.  And  many  a  tour- 
ney was  held,  and  many  a  mask  and  ball.  And,  for  a 
long  time  thereafter,  nothing  was  heard  or  talked  about 
In  Paris,  save  music  and  mirth,  and  brave  feats  of  arms, 
the  happy  restoration  and  return  of  Roland 


How  Charlemagne  fought  against  Ogier.    365 


ADVENTURE  XXXI. 


HOW    CHARLEMAGNE    FOUGHT    AGAINST 

OGIER. 

SHALL  I  tell  you  of  the  sad  war  which  Charlemagne 
waged  for  so  long  a  time  against  one  of  the  noblest  of 
his  vassals  ?  Sorrowful,  indeed,  were  those  days,  and 
much  shame  did  the  peers  suffer  on  account  of  the 
proud-faced  king. 

Ogicr  the  Dane  had  married  Belicene,  the  daughter 
of  the  Lord  of  St.  Omer;  and  he  had  one  son  named 
Baldwinet.  Tall  and  comely  grew  the  lad,  and  proud 
of  look ;  and  Ogier  loved  him  more  than  all  things  else, 
One  day  the  king's  son  Chariot  played  at  chess  with 
Baldwinet ;  and,  much  to  the  surprise  of  the  prince,  the 
young  lad  checkmated  him.  Very  furious  grew  Chariot 
He  seized  the  golden  chessboard,  and  struck  Baldwinet 
so  fiercely  that  he  stretched  him  dead  on  the  marble 
floor.  When  Ogier  heard  of  the  bloody  deed,  he  has- 
tened to  the  hall  where  his  son  still  lay,  he  lifted  the 
cold  and  bloody  body  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  the  fair 
white  face.  The  knights  who  stood  around,  sorrowful 
and  horror-stricken,  wept  at  the  sight  Then  Ogier 


366  The  Story  of  Roland. 

sprang  angrily  to  his  feet  again  :  he  seized  a  huge  club, 
and  sought  Chariot  from  chamber  to  chamber  to  kill 
him.  But  Charlemagne,  too  blind  to  the  faults  of  hia 
wicked  and  foolish  son,  had  hidden  him  in  a  secret 
closet  Ogier  sought  the  king,  and  asked  that  due 
punishment  should  be  meted  out  to  the  black-hearted 
prince.  But  the  king  mocked  him  and  banished  him 
from  the  court. 

"  Take  thyself  hence,"  said  he  angrily ;  "  and,  if  to- 
morrow's sun  sees  thee  in  France,  thou  shalt  find  thyself 
in  the  darkest  dungeon  in  our  kingdom." 

Ogier,  despairing  of  justice,  and  filled  with  sorrow 
and  rage,  mounted  his  good  steed  Broiefort,  and  rode 
away  from  the  king's  court.  He  went  straight  to  his 
castle  of  Garlandori,  —  a  fief  which  he  held  of  the  king 
in  Southern  France.  But,  when  Charlemagne  heard 
that  the  bereaved  and  sorrow-stricken  knight  was  stil) 
within  his  domains,  he  called  his  host  together  and  laid 
siege  to  Garlandon.  Then  Ogier,  not  wishing  to  fight 
against  the  king,  secretly  quitted  the  castle,  taking  with 
him  neither  palfrey  nor  sumter  horse,  but  only  his  brave 
»teed  Broiefort.  He  crossed  the  snowy  Alps,  and  came 
st  length  to  the  city  of  Pavia,  and  presented  himself  be- 
fore Didier,  the  King  of  the  Lombards. 

"Fair  king,"  said  he,  "I  am  a  man  who  has  been 
exiled,  hunted,  from  sweet  France.  Charlemagne  has 
driven  me  out  of  his  kingdom ;  and  he  has  left  me 
aeither  town  nor  castle,  nor  even  so  much  land  a§  I 
could  lie  upon  It  was  all  because  I  demanded  justice 


How  Charlemagne  fought  against  Ogier.    367 

for  the  death  of  the  young  lad  Baldwinet,  whom  I  loved 
so  well  And  now  I  come  to  you,  and  beg  your  aid ; 
for  I  may  have  need  of  it.  And  I  will  serve  you  with 
sword  and  lance  so  well  that  you  shall  love  me." 

"  What  is  thy  name  ? '    asked  Didier. 

44  My  name  is  Ogier,  and  men  call  me  '  the  Dane.' " 

At  this  word  Didier  leaped  to  his  feet,  and  right 
warmly  he  welcomed  the  Dane.  And  he  gave  to  Ogier 
as  fiefs  two  famous  strongholds,  —  Castle-Fort  on  the 
Rhone,  which  had  never  been  entered  by  a  foe,  and 
Mount  Quevrel  on  the  Rock. 

The  next  spring,  King  Charlemagne  held  an  Easter 
feast  at  Paris.  Never  since  the  days  of  Alexander  the 
Greek,  of  Lucian  of  Acre,  or  of  Clovis,  who  was  next 
after  Caesar,  had  a  king  held  a  feast  so  grand.  There 
sat  at  his  table  seventeen  kings,  thirty  bishops,  and  full 
a  thousand  knights.  And,  while  they  feasted,  some  one 
with  slight  discretion  spoke  the  name  of  Ogier. 

"The  traitor  1"  cried  the  king,  striking  his  knife 
upon  the  table,  "  He  is  the  guest  of  Didier  of  Lom- 
bardy,  but  he  shall  not  long  be  so.  Who  now  is  there 
among  you,  brave  knights,  who  will  go  beyond  the 
mountains,  and  bid  Didier  send  me  this  rebel  as  a  cap- 
tive ? " 

Not  one  of  the  knights  made  answer,  for  those  who 
did  not  love  Ogier  feared  him.  Yet  at  last  Namon  the 
Wise  arose.  Very  old  and  frail  was  he,  and  his  hair 
and  beard  were  white  as  snow. 

"  Sir  king/'  said  he,  "  since  no  younger  man  offers  to 


368  The  Story  of  Roland. 

go,  I  will  bear  your  message ;  for  it  is  the  first  duty  of 
every  knight  to  serve  his  lord" 

But  the  king  would  not  let  him  go.  Then  Namon 
turned  to  his  son  Bertram,  who  sat  by  his  side,  and 
bade  him  undertake  the  errand. 

"  It  is  well/1  said  the  king.     "  Bertram  shall  go." 

And  Bertram,  although  very  loath  to  do  so,  departed 
at  once.  Had  it  not  been  for  his  father's  wishes,  he 
would  not  have  gone. 

When  the  young  knight  reached  Pavia,  he  went  at 
once  to  the  king's  palace.  Didier  was  sitting  at  his 
table  in  his  feast  hall,  and  Ogier  sat  beside  him.  When 
Bertram  was  shown  into  the  hall,  the  Dane  knew  him 
at  once  as  the  son  of  his  old  friend,  Duke  Namon.  He 
knew  him  by  the  checkered  helmet  which  he  wore,  and 
the  silver  eagle  on  either  side,  and  the  sword-hilt  of 
purest  gold  ;  and  he  would  have  given  all  the  treasure 
in  the  world  to  have  been  elsewhere.  He  whispered  to 
Didier,  and  begged  him  to  treat  the  messenger  kindly, 
and  not  let  his  ill-mannered  Lombards  insult  the  young 
man. 

Bertram  then  delivered  his  message :  "  If  Didier  doei 
not  send  the  Dane  back  in  chains,  like  a  greyhound, 
then  Charlemagne  will  come  and  destroy  Pavia,  and 
overrun  and  ruin  his  kingdom  of  Lombardy  and  place 
a  better  knight  on  the  throne." 

When  he  had  spoken,  Ogier  arose,  and  answered: 
"Didier  owes  no  vassalry  to  Charlemagne,  save  the 
succor  of  ten  thousand  men  for  sixty  days,  in  case  the 


How  Charlemagne  fought  against  Ogier.    369 

French  king  makes  war  in  Italy.  As  to  myself,  Ogier 
the  Dane,  I  do  not  believe  that  Didier  will  fail  me.  If 
Charlemagne  would  overrun  and  ruin  Lombardy,  let 
him  come.  He  shall  find  us  not  asleep." 

Then  Bertram  answered  by  accusing  Ogier  of  treason 
to  the  king,  and  of  not  yet  having  paid  the  tribute 
which  his  father  Godfrey  had  owed  for  the  fief  of  Den- 
mark. Very  angry  grew  Ogier ;  and  in  a  great  passion 
he  seized  a  knife  and  flung  it  at  the  young  knight 
Happily,  the  weapon  missed  its  mark,  only  cutting  the 
fringe  of  Bertram's  hauberk.  Then  better  thoughts 
came  to  the  Dane,  and  he  remembered  the  kind  coun- 
sels and  the  generous  help  he  had  so  often  received 
from  Namon  the  gentle  duke.  And  so  he  answered 
the  rash  messenger  mildly,  as  a  worthy  knight,  as  a 
wise  and  well-taught  man. 

"For  the  sake  of  thy  father,  Namon  the  flowery- 
bearded,"  said  he,  "the  spear  of  Ogier  shall  never  be 
levelled  against  thee.  Charlemagne  has  driven  me  from 
sweet  France :  he  has  disherited  me,  and  made  me  an 
outlaw.  And  all  this  has  been  for  no  wickedness  of  my 
own,  but  only  because  I  dared  open  my  mouth  when 
Chariot  slew  Baldwinet,  the  son  whom  I  loved  so  well." 

The  next  morning  Didier  called  his  barons  together, 
and  they  talked  over  the  message  which  Charlemagne 
had  sent  And  they  bade  Bertram  carry  this  word  back 
to  the  French  king  :  "  We  have  pledged  our  friendship 
and  aid  to  Ogier  the  Dane,  and  we  will  not  deliver  him 
over  to  his  enemies.  If  Charlemagne  would  decide  thif 


37O  The  Story  of  Roland. 

matter  by  a  trial  of  arras,  let  him  meet  us  in  May,  in  t 
pitched  battle  under  Ajossa." 

When  Bertram  returned  to  France,  and  delivered  hii 
message,  Charlemagne  began  at  once  to  make  ready  for 
war.  He  called  together  an  army  of  fifty  thousand 
warriors.  But  the  peers  Roland  and  Oliver  and  Reio 
old  joined  not  the  standard  of  the  king :  they  would 
take  no  part  in  this  unrighteous  war.  The  king's  host 
crossed  the  mountains,  and  camped  in  the  meadows 
before  St  Ajossa.  There,  as  Charlemagne  sat  before 
his  tent,  he  saw  a  great  company  of  folk  coming  down 
the  hills  on  his  right.  It  was  Gerard  of  Viana,  with  ten 
thousand  crossbow-men.  He  looked  to  the  left,  and 
saw  another  ten  thousand  warriors  coming  up  through 
the  meadows,  their  hauberks  and  shields  flaming  in  the 
sunlight,  and  their  banners  fluttering  toward  the  sky. 

"What  host  of  strangers  is  this?"  asked  Charle- 
magne. 

"  It  is  Baldwin  of  Flanders,  and  his  far-famed  Flem- 
ish spearmen,"  answered  Duke  Namon. 

The  two  armies  were  drawn  up  in  battle-array  before 
St  Ajossa.  Terrible  was  the  shock  with  which  they 
met  in  combat ;  fierce  and  long  was  the  fight  At 
length,  however,  the  Lombards  were  beaten,  and  King 
Didier  sought  safety  in  flight.  Everywhere  the  French 
were  victorious  ;  for  they  were  the  braver  knights,  and 
better  trained.  Ogier,  on  the  back  of  his  faithful 
Broiefort,  fled  from  the  lost  field  with  fifteen  thousand 
foes  close  following  behind  him.  Bat  the  good  hone 


How  Charlemagne  fought  against  Ogi&r.    371 

distanced  his  pursuers,  and  carried  his  master  safely 
out  of  danger.  The  hunted  Dane  hastened  now  to 
reach  the  shelter  of  his  own  stronghold,  Castle-Fort 
on  the  Rhone,  which  Didier  the  Lombard  had  gives 
him. 

One  day,  overcome  by  fatigue  and  long  wakefulneat, 
ae  stopped  in  a  mountain  glen,  and  lay  down  behind  a 
huge  rock  to  rest  He  lifted  the  helmet  from  his  head, 
and  placed  it  on  the  grass  beside  him ;  and  such  was 
his  wean  ness,  that,  ere  he  was  aware,  he  had  fallen 
asleep.  While  he  slept,  a  company  of  Frenchmen 
came  up  with  him,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  Broiefort, 
he  would  have  fared  but  ill  at  their  hands.  The  good 
horse,  seeing  that  danger  was  near,  neighed  loudly  and 
struck  the  ground  with  his  hoofs ;  but  Ogier  ctill  slept. 
Then  the  noble  beast  seized  his  master  by  the  collar  of 
his  hauberk,  and  shook  him  until  he  awoke.  The  Dane 
had  barely  time  to  mount  the  faithful  steed  and  gallop 
out  of  the  glen.  That  afternoon,  as  he  hurried  onward, 
closely  followed  by  his  foes,  he  came  to  a  little  castle, 
standing  in  the  edge  of  the  wood  by  the  side  of  a  wide 
morass.  There  was  no  town  nor  any  farmlands  near ; 
*nd  the  place,  even  if  not  deserted,  seemed  very  poorly 
guarded.  The  gate  was  wide  open  ;  and,  as  no  sentinel 
or  warder  was  there  to  challenge  or  prevent  him,  Ogier 
rode  boldly  in.  The  courtyard  was  empty ;  and  neither 
lord  aor  servitor  could  be  seen,  although  the  Dane 
thought  he  heard  loud  voices,  and  sounds  of  life,  in  the 
V&w-buiJt  halls.  He  had  no  time,  however,  for  cere 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


raony;  for  his  pursuers  were  already  in  sight  He 
quickly  dismounted,  and  drew  up  the  bridge,  and  shut 
and  barred  the  gates  behind  him.  Then,  without  hesi- 
tation, he  went  into  the  dining  hall,  where  he  found  the 
owner  of  the  castle  and  all  his  family  sitting  at  the 
table, 

"  Kind  sir,"  said  he  to  the  man,  "  I  am  a  knight,  who, 
for  no  fault  of  my  own,  am  banished  from  my  own  coun- 
try, and  hunted  from  place  to  place  like  a  felon.  If 
thou  wilt  give  me  shelter,  I  will  richly  repay  thee." 

But  the  man  rose  up  in  a  furious  passion,  and  tried 
to  drive  Ogier  from  the  hall. 

"  If  thou  art  so  lacking  in  courtesy  as  to  thrust  a 
stranger  thus  rudely  from  thy  house,'*  said  the  Dane, 
"thou  must  not  complain  if  I  take  forcible  possession 
of  all  that  thou  hast."  And  he  drew  his  sword,  and 
drove  the  man  and  his  family  out  through  the  postern 
gate,  which  he  closed  and  bolted  behind  them.  Then 
he  searched  every  part  of  the  castle,  from  the  deep 
cellars  to  the  highest  tower,  to  see  whether  the  place 
were  well  victualled  And  he  found  great  plenty  of  salt 
meat,  and  bread  and  wine,  and  dainties  of  every  sort, 
The  table  was  loaded  with  rich  food,  cakes,  and  red 
wine,  and  cranes,  and  geese,  and  every  kind  of  wild 
game.  There  were  provisions  enough  for  a  sinal1 
garrison. 

Not  long  was  it  until  Charlemagne,  with  ten  thou- 
sand warriors,  came  up,  and  laid  siege  to  the  castle, 
He  pitched  his  tent  right  before  the  gate,  and  placed 


Haw  Charlemagne  fought  against  Ogier.    373 

armed  men  on  every  side,  —  a  thousand  squires,  a  thou- 
sand spearmen,  a  thousand  crossbow-men.  The  walls 
were  not  very  high ;  but  the  ditch  was  wide  and  deep, 
and  there  seemed  no  way  of  crossing.  At  length,  by 
the  king's  orders,  the  besiegers  cut  down  the  willows  of 
the  marsh  and  the  brushwood  in  the  forest,  and  threw 
them  into  the  moat  to  fill  it  up.  And  ten  great  ladders 
were  placed  against  the  walls.  But  Ogier  defended 
himself  right  manfully,  and  kept  his  enemies  at  bay 
until  nightfall,  when  they  returned  to  their  tents,  vow- 
ing that  he  should  not  escape  them  on  the  morrow.  It 
was  v  fearful  night  The  rain  fell  in  torrents,  the  light- 
nings flashed,  the  thunder  rolled,  and  there  was  such  a 
tempest  as  has  seldom  been  known.  But  Charlemagne 
set  two  thousand  men  on  guard,  and  watchfires  were 
built  for  seven  leagues  around. 

Ogier7  s  heart  sank  within  him.  "  Never  in  my  life," 
said  he  to  himself,  "  have  I  done  good  to  any  one  who 
did  not  in  the  end  seek  my  destruction."  He  did  not 
think  of  the  great-hearted  Roland,  who  all  this  time 
held  himself  aloof  from  the  king. 

When  the  earliest  dawn  of  that  long  night  began  to 
appear,  the  Dane  went  to  the  stables  to  find  Broiefort 
The  noble  creature  knew  his  master ;  he  neighed  softly, 
and  scratched  his  foot  for  joy.' 

"Horse,"  said  Ogier  lovingly,  "there  was  never  a 
steed  so  good,  so  proud,  in  every  way  so  worthy,  as 
tbou.  Thou  hast  done  me  good  service  in  many  a 
:  canst  thou  help  me  once  more?  In  all  the 


374  Tk*  Story  of  Roland. 

world  there  is  not  one  man  who  holds  me  dear ;  and,  if 
thou  shouldst  fail  me,  I  would  be  undone." 

The  good  horse  raised  his  head  as  if  he  understood 
his  master  :  he  neighed  again,  and  struck  uneasily  with 
his  foot  The  knight  put  on  the  saddle,  and  threw  the 
golden  reins  upon  the  proud  charger's  neck ;  and,  jisst 
as  the  cocks  were  crowing,  he  opened  the  castle-gate 
and  looked  out  All  was  quiet  in  Charlemagne's  cainp, 
and  the  watchers  seemed  to  be  asleep.  Softly  did 
Ogier  let  down  the  bridge ;  he  vaulted  into  the  saddle ; 
he  breathed  a  short  prayer  to  Heaven,  and  dashed 
boldly  away.  The  camp  was  aroused  :  the  men  rushed 
to  arms.  Many  of  them  saw  Ogier  galloping  away ;  but 
they  pitied  his  plight,  and  would  not  harm  him.  Oth- 
ers, who  were  his  kinsmen,  or  who  had  fought  by  his 
side  in  many  a  hard-won  fray,  secretly  blessed  him  as 
he  passed  And,  ere  Charlemagne  could  rally  his 
squires  and  crossbow-men,  the  gallant  Dane  was  well 
on  his  way  to  Castle-Fort. 

Right  hearty  was  the  welcome  which  Ogier  received 
when  he  rode  into  his  own  castle.  And  the  three  hun- 
dred warriors  who  were  there  at  once  made  every  thing 
ready  for  a  siege.  On  one  side  of  Castle-Fort  there 
was  a  marsh  so  soft  and  deep  that  no  man  could  ride 
across  it;  and  on  the  other  was  the  swift-running 
Rhone,  washing  the  foot  of  the  tower.  Within  the 
walls  there  was  a  spring  and  a  little  brook  so  wide  and 
so  deep  that  dames  and  damsels,  burgesses  and  knighu, 
might  bathe  in  it ;  and  ere  it  poured  its  waters  into  tfc« 


How  Charlemagne  fought  against  Ogier.    375 

river,  it  turned  three  mills,  which  stopped  not  the  whole 
year  round. 

Soon  Charlemagne's  army  arrived,  and  laid  close 
siege  to  Castle-Fort  And  the  king  summoned  Malrin, 
the  engineer,  and  promised  him  a  thousand  marks  of 
gold,  and  twenty  war  steeds,  if  he  would  batter  down 
the  stronghold  And  forthwith  Malrin  called  together 
three  hundred  and  eighteen  skilled  carpenters,  and 
more  than  four  thousand  workmen ;  and  they  built 
before  the  gate  an  engine  seven  stories  high,  whereon 
a  thousand  one  hundred  and  seventy  bowmen  could 
stand.  And  day  and  night  they  shot  great  bolts  of 
steel,  and  iron-shod  arrows,  into  the  fort ;  while  Malrin, 
from  the  uppermost  story,  threw  Greek  fire  upon  the 
roofs  of  the  houses,  and  kindled  flames  such  that 
neither  water  nor  wine,  but  only  cold  earth  and  soft 
clay,  could  quench. 

Ogier  and  his  men  were  at  length  driven  into  the 
tower,  and  they  stabled  their  horses  in  the  deep  dun- 
geons underneath.  But  still  the  bolts  and  arrows  and 
stones,  and  the  dreadful  Greek  fire,  poured  down  upon 
them,  The  tower  was  of  stone,  cemented  with  mortar 
mixed  with  dragon's  blood ;  and  no  missile  nor  storm  of 
fire  could  harm  it  Yet  one  by  one  the  valiant  defend- 
ers were  picked  off  by  Malrin's  sharp-sighted  bowmen, 
until  at  length  Ogier  was  left  all  alone.  He  was  now 
without  squire  or  page  or  serving-man.  He  must 
needs  grind  his  own  corn,  draw  water  from  his  own 

ill,  heat  it  on  the  fire  which  he  himself  had  kindled. 


376  The  Story  of  Roland. 

sift  his  own  flour,  knead  the  dough,  heat  the  oven,  bake 
his  own  bread.  He  was  his  own  cook,  his  own  butler, 
his  own  groom.  Yet  he  knew  full  well,  that  one  man 
never  held  a  castle  long  against  his  foes. 

What  Ogier  next  did,  says  the  poet  who  told  this 
tale,  no  other  man  ever  did.  He  cut  down  the  small 
oaks  and  the  branchy  trees  which  grew  in  the  court- 
yard, and  shaped  them  into  wooden  men ;  he  dressed 
them  with  hauberks  and  helmets,  and  girded  swords 
upon  them,  and  hung  shields  on  their  necks,  and  put 
battle-axes  in  their  hands  ;  and  then  he  fixed  them  on 
the  battlements,  so  that  the  French  would  think  that 
the  fort  was  still  well  garrisoned.1  Charlemagne  was 
amazed.  He  wondered  how  so  many  men  could  subsist 
in  the  tower,  and  how  they  could  live  amid  the  storm 
of  iron  and  fire  which  was  hurled  down  upon  them.  He 
began  to  think  that  some  unseen  power  was  fighting 
for  Ogier. 

But  ere  long  the  gallant  Dane  became  sorely  pressed 
with  famine.  His  face  grew  pale  with  fasting :  he 
wasted  away  until  he  looked  like  a  giant  skeleton.  In 
his  extremity  he  again  mounted  his  good  Broiefort,  and 
ftarly  one  morning  dashed  recklessly  out  of  the  gate. 
A  thousand  base-minded  squires  pursued  him ;  but 
Broiefort  swam  the  rapid  River  Cercle,  and  left  them 
far  behind  When  Charlemagne  learned  that  Ogier  had 
again  escaped  him,  he  was  very  angry.  He  warned  the 
knights  who  were  with  him,  that  they  should  on  no 

*  See  Note  if  at  the  «nd  of  tfai* 


OGIER'S  GARRISON. 


How  Charlemagne  fought  against  Ogier.    377 

account  favor  the  rebellious  Dane,  on  pain  of  being 
punished  as  traitors.  And  then  he  returned  with  his 
host  to  Paris. 

Meanwhile,  Ogier  hastened  on  his  way  toward  Den- 
mark, for  there  he  felt  that  he  would  find  friends.  One 
day  he  stopped  by  the  roadside  to  rest ;  and,  feeling 
weary  and  worn  out,  he  ungirt  his  sword  Short,  and  lay 
down  beneath  a  tree  to  sleep.  While  he  slept,  it  so 
happened  that  Archbishop  Turpin,  with  a  following  of 
knights  and  squires,  passed  that  way.  They  saw  the 
warrior  lying  in  peaceful  slumber  upon  the  grass,  and 
they  remarked  the  nobleness  of  his  horse  and  the 
beauty  of  his  armor.  And,  when  they  drew  nearer,  all 
knew  that  it  was  Ogier.  The  good  archbishop  was 
sorely  troubled.  He  would  fain  not  harm  his  brother-in- 
arms ;  yet,  if  he  did  not  take  him  prisoner,  Charlemagne 
would  drive  him  from  the  kingdom.  So,  after  much 
ado,  they  took  Ogier's  horse  and  sword,  and  over- 
powered  and  bound  the  Dane  himself, 

"  My  once  kind  friend,"  said  Ogier  to  the  archbishop, 
"  thou  doest  me  too  great  an  injury.  If  thou  wouldst 
befriend  me,  kill  me  at  once,  rather  than  give  me  up  to 
the  king." 

But  Turpin  bade  him  be  of  good  cheer.  He  assured 
him  that  he  would  take  him  to  Reims,  and  put  him  in 
his  own  dungeon,  and  see  that  no  harm  came  to  him. 

When  Charlemagne  heard  that  the  Dane  had  been 
taken  at  last,  and  that  he  was  in  prison  at  Reims,  he 
was  very  glad,  and  he  began  making  ready  to  have  him 


378  Th*  Story  of  Roland. 

hanged  like  a  common  thief.  But  Archbishop  Turpin 
came  before  him  with  a  retinue  of  knights,  bishops,  and 
abbots,  and  begged  that  he  would  spare  the  life  of  the 
unhappy  Dane.  And  Gerard  of  Rousillon  and  fuD 
sixty  dukes  and  barons  joined  them  in  this  petition, 
and  threatened,  that,  if  Charlemagne  slew  Ogier,  they 
would  declare  war  against  him.  And  Turpin  promised, 
that,  in  case  the  knight's  life  were  spared,  he  would 
keep  him  in  his  own  dungeon,  where  he  should  never 
see  his  hands  or  his  feet,  and  where  he  should  have  for 
his  daily  allowance  not  more  than  a  quartern  of  bread 
and  one  cup  of  water  and  wine  mixed. 

"  Only  give  him  his  life,"  said  the  archbishop,  "  and 
he  shall  never  cause  you  trouble  again." 

At  last  the  king  relented,  and  good  Turpin  returned 
in  great  joy  to  Reims.  He  had  a  silver  cup  made, 
which  held  a  whole  gallon  of  wine;  and  a  bushel  of 
flour  he  made  into  two  loaves,  so  that  seven  knights 
could  not  eat  a  quartern.  And  Ogier  fared  most  royally 
in  the  archbishop's  dungeon,  for  he  wanted  neither 
comfort  nor  amusement  Yet  he  was  often  sad  and 
downhearted,  and  he  grieved  greatly  for  his  friends. 
Anl  in  his  loneliness,  shut  out  from  the  sunlight  and 
the  companionship  of  those  whom  he  loved,  his  long 
hair  and  beard  became  white  as  the  snow. 

But  by  and  by  there  came  a  change  in  Ogier's  for- 
tunes. France  was  being  threatened  with  invasion  by 
Brehus,  \  Saracen  chief  of  great  valor  and  distinction ; 
and  Charlemagne  had  marshalled  his  host,  and  was  mak 


How  Charlemagne  fought  against  Ogier.    379 

ing  ready  to  repel  the  invaders.  The  French  were 
waiting  the  king's  orders  to'  march  ;  and  all  the  peers, 
save  Ogier,  were  in  their  places,  rhen  Turpin  went 
into  the  presence  of  the  king,  and  said,  — 

"  My  lord,  we  can  scarcely  expect  Heaven's  blessing 
to  rest  on  this  enterprise  while  one  of  the  peers  is 
absent  There  are  twelve  of  us,  but  here  are  only 
eleven," 

At  the  same  time  three  hundred  squires,  all  sons  of 
the  noblest  men  in  the  kingdom,  began  to  cry  out, 
"  Ogier  1  Ogier  i  "  And  Duke  Namon  boldly  advised 
the  king  to  pardon  the  good  Dane,  and  set  him  free. 

"But  he  is  dead,"  said  the  king. 

"  Not  so,"  answered  Namon.  "  He  is  alive  and  well, 
in  the  archbishop's  dungeon." 

"If  that  is  true,"  said  the  king,  "thou  shalt  take  him 
out,  and  we  will  make  him  all  due  amends," 

When  word  was  brought  to  Ogier  that  the  king  was 
willing  to  pardon  him  in  order  that  he  might  lead  his 
fighting-men  against  the  Saracens,  he  seemed  but  little 
gladdened  by  the  news. 

"Never,"  said  he,  "will  I  don  breastplate  or  shield, 
or  lift  the  lance,  until  Chariot,  who  slew  my  gentle  son, 
shall  be  given  over  into  my  hands." 

Charlemagne  was  in  distress.  He  knew  that,  unless 
Ogier  were  with  them,  the  peers  would  not  advance 
against  the  Saracen  but  would  rather  defy  his  authority. 
And  yet  his  love  for  the  foolish  Chariot  was  as  great  as 
ever.  At  last,  however,  by  Duke  Namon's  advice,  h« 


380  The  Story  of  Roland. 

yielded,  and  sent  word  to  Ogier  that  he  should  do  with 
Chariot  as  he  wished.  The  Dane  was  brought  out  oi 
his  prison,  and  dressed  in  his  own  armor,  which  the 
good  archbishop  had  carefully  kept  for  him.  He  was 
tall  and  straight,  and  his  look  was  proud  as  that  of  a 
lion.  When  he  had  donned  his  arms,  he  looked  anx- 
iously around  him. 

"  Where,  now,  is  my  horse  Broiefort,"  asked  he,  —  "the 
good  friend  who  stood  by  me  when  all  others  failed  ? ' 

The  archbishop  could  not  tell  ;  but  a  monk  who 
stood  near  remembered  having  seen  the  steed  drawing 
a  heavy  cartload  of  stones  at  Meaux.  "When  Ogier 
was  thrown  into  prison,"  said  he,  "  the  abbot  of  Meaux 
took  charge  of  his  horse.  The  old  man  was  very  proud 
of  his  steed,  arid  very  impatient  to  try  him ;  and  so, 
when  he  was  ready  to  leave  Reims,  he  mounted  him, 
intending  to  ride  home  on  his  back.  But  the  horses 
who  had  been  used  to  the  giant  weight  of  Ogier  and  his 
armor,  hardly  knew  that  any  one  was  on  his  back,  so 
small  and  light  is  the  good  abbot.  He  started  off  at  a 
great  speed,  running  up  hill  and  down  at  a  rate  which 
frightened  the  abbot  almost  out  of  his  senses ;  and,  as 
be  passed  the  convent  of  Jouaire,  he  threw  the  good 
man  off,  right  before  the  eyes  of  the  abbess  and  her 
nuns.  This  accident  so  angered  and  mortified  the 
abbot,  that  he  has  kept  the  horse  hard  at  work  ever 
since,  hauling  stones  for  the  new  chapel  which  he  it 
building." 

Messengers  were  at  once  sent  to  Meaux.   who  re- 


How  Charlemagne  fought  against  Ogier.     38 1 


turned  soon  after  with  the  horse.  But  he  was  not  the 
noble-looking  steed  that  he  had  once  been.  He  was 
thin  and  poor;  and  his  sides  had  been  galled  by  the 
shafts  ;  and  his  eyes  had  no  longer  any  look  of  human 
intelligence  about  them.  Yet  he  remembered  his  old 
master  :  he  whinnied  softly,  and  struck  the  ground  with 
his  hoofs,  and  then  lay  down  before  him  for  very  hum- 
bleness. Ogier  rubbed  the  horse's  bare  flanks  with  his 
rich  embroidered  cloak,  and  wept  as  if  his  heart  would 
burst.  And  the  squires  covered  the  steed  with  rich 
trappings  of  cloth-of-gold  and  of  ermine ;  and  they  put 
a  golden  bit  in  his  mouth,  and  reins  of  silk  upon  his 
neck.  And  the  whole  company  departed  for  Laoii, 
where  the  king  awaited  them. 

When  Ogier  came  into  the  presence  of  Charlemagne, 
he  asked  that  the  king  should  fulfil  his  promise  by  giv- 
ing up  Chariot  for  punishment.  But  the  father's  heart 
of  Charlemagne  made  him  hesitate.  Then  Turpin  and 
Duke  Namon,  and  all  the  peers,  besought  the  king  to 
yield,  not  only  for  his  own  honor's  sake,  but  for  the 
sake  of  the  people  and  of  Christendom.  And  so  he 
sent  for  Chariot  to  come  and  deliver  himself  up  to 
Ogier.  Trembling  with  fear,  the  wicked  young  prince 
obeyed.  He  cast  himself  with  crossed  hands  upon  the 
ground,  and  with  bitter  tears  he  besought  Ogier* s  par- 
don. Duke  Namon,  too,  and  the  other  peers,  begged 
Ogier  to  be  merciful.  But  the  Dane  bade  them  hold 
their  peace.  He  drew  from  its  scabbard,  the  rich-lettered 
brand  Short,  and  flourished  it  angrily  about  Chariot's 


382  The  Story  of  Roland. 

head.  The  king,  in  great  horror  and  distress,  fled  to 
the  chapel,  and  knelt  with  covered  head  before  the  altar. 
Then  Ogier  gently  lifted  Chariot  from  the  ground,  and 
pardoned  him  for  the  great  wrong  which  he  had  done 
him,  and  bade  him  go  in  peace.  And  after  this,  he 
went  into  the  chapel,  where  the  king  still  knelt ;  and 
the  two  embraced  each  other  in  the  presence  of  the 
host,  and  mutually  forgave  each  other,  and 
their  faith,  and  a  lifelong  friendship. 


The  V&U  of  7^0rns.  383 


ADVENTURE  XXXlf. 


THE  VALE  OF  THORNS. 

years  passed  In  all  the  world  there  was  not 
such  another  king  as  Charlemagne,  Wherever  his  artai 
were  carried,  there  victory  followed  ;  and  neither  Pagan 
nor  haughty  Christian  foe  dared  lift  up  hands  any  more 
against  him.  His  kingdom  stretched  from  the  Baltic 
Sea  to  the  Italian  shores,  and  from  beyond  the  Rhine  to 
the  great  Western  Ocean,  Princes  were  his  servants ; 
kings  were  his  vassals ;  and  even  the  Pope  of  Rome  did 
him  homage.  And  now  he  had  crossed  the  Pyrenees, 
and  was  carrying  fire  and  sword  into  the  fair  fields  and 
rich  towns  of  the  Spanish  Moors ;  for  he  had  vowed  to 
punish  Marsilius,  king  of  Spain,  for  the  injuries  he  had 
done  the  French  in  former  years.  And  he  had  overrun 
the  whole  of  that  haughty  land,  and  had  left  neithes 
castle,  nor  city,  nor  wall,  unbroken,  tare  only  the  town 
of  Saragossa. 

One  day  Charlemagne  sat  beneath  the  blossoming 
trees  of  an  orchard  near  Cordova.  White  was  hit 
beard,  and  flowered  was  his  head ;  yet  still  handsome 
was  his  body,  and  proud  bid  form.  Aromad  him  were 


384  Tk*  S^y  °f 


the  noblest  of  his  knights,  Roland  and  Oliver  and  old 
Duke  Namon,  and  fifteen  thousand  of  the  choicest  men 
of  France.  It  was  a  gala-day  for  the  French,  and  the 
warriors  amused  themselves  with  field-sports,  and  many 
pleasant  games.  Then  a  party  of  Moorish  messenger* 
were  brought  before  the  king.  They  came  from  Mar- 
silius  at  Saragossa,  who  had  sent  to  beg  peace  of  Charle- 
magne. 

"What  will  Marsilius  give  for  peace?"  asked  the 
king. 

"  If  you  will  go  back  to  your  own  country,  and  cease 
this  unhappy  war,"  answered  they,  "then  Marsilius 
binds  himself  to  do  this:  he  will  go  to  Aix  at  Mich- 
aelmas, and  be  baptized;  he  will  do  homage  then  for 
Spain,  and  will  faithfully  hold  it  in  fief  from  you  ;  he 
will  give  you  great  store  of  treasures,  —  four  hundred 
mules  loaded  with  gold,  and  fifty  cartloads  of  silver, 
besides  numbers  of  bears  and  lions  and  tame  grey- 
hounds, and  seven  hundred  camels,  and  a  thousand 
moulted  falcons.  Too  long  has  this  cruel  war  been 
waging.  Marsilius  would  fain  have  peace." 

Charlemagne  listened  to  the  words  of  the  messen- 
ger*, but  he  was  not  quick  to  answer.  He  called  to- 
gether his  peers,  and  laid  the  matter  before  them. 

"What  think  you  of  the  Moor's  offers  of  peace?" 
asked  he. 

"  Put  no  trust  in  Marsilius  I  "  cried  Roland  "  He  is 
the  most  faithless  of  Pagans,  and  speaks  only  lies. 
Carry  on  the  war  as  you  have  begun,  and  talk  not  ol 
peace  until  Saragossa  is  ours." 


The  VaU  of  Thorns.  385 

1 ~^ 

Charlemagne's  face  grew  dark,  yet  he  said  not  a  word. 

It  was  plain  that  he  coveted  the  treasures  which  Mar- 
silius  had  promised.  Then  Ganelon  arose,  and  with 
curling  lip,  thus  answered,  — 

"If  Marsilius  offers  to  do  fealty  for  Spain,  and  to 
hold  it  as  a  gift  from  you,  wherefore  should  we  refuse 
his  plea?  He  who  would  advise  you  otherwise  cares 
not  what  manner  of  death  we  die." 

And  Namon  of  Bavaria  added,  "If  the  Moor  is 
beaten,  and  cries  for  mercy,  it  would  be  an  unknightly 
act  to  continue  warring  against  him.  My  voice  is  for 
peace." 

And  all  the  peers,  save  Roland  and  Oliver,  cried  out, 
"  The  duke  hath  spoken  wisely.  Let  us  have  peace ! ' 

"  It  is  well,"  answered  Charlemagne ;  "  and  so  it  shall 
be.  But  whom  shall  we  send  to  Saragossa  to  treat 
with  Marsilius,  and  to  receive  the  pledges  of  good  faith 
which  he  shall  give  ? " 

Then  arose  a  great  dispute  among  the  peers  as  to 
which  should  undertake  this  dangerous  errand.  Duke 
Namon,  who  was  never  known  to  shirk  a  duty,  offered 
to  go ;  but  the  king  would  not  consent  He  liked  net 
to  part  with  his  wise  old  friend,  even  for  a  single  day. 

"  I  will  carry  the  message,"  said  Roland. 

"Not  so,  my  brother,"  interrupted  Oliver.  "Thy 
pride  will  get  the  better  of  thy  judgment,  and  thou  wilt 
act  rashly.  Let  me  undertake  the  errand" 

But  Charlemagne  refused  them  both.  "Neither  of 
you  shall  go,"  said  he.  "  But  you  may  choose  one  from 
among  these  other  barons  to  be  the  messenger." 


The  Story  of  Roland, 


"Then  send  Gancion  of  Mayence,"  said  Roland 
MHe  is  in  favor  of  this  peace,  and  he  is  most  fit  to 
sarry  the  message." 

44  Yes,  send  Ganelon  of  Mayence!"  cried  all  the 
peers. 

Ganelon  rose  from  his  seat  in  rage.  Fire  flashed 
from  his  hazel  eyes  ;  his  lips  quivered  ;  he  tore  the  sable 
border  from  his  crimson  tunic,  and  stood  proudly  before 
Roland.  "Fool!"  cried  he.  "Who  art  thou  who 
wouldst  send  me  to  Marsilius  ?  If  I  but  live  to  come 
again  from  Saragossa,  I  will  deal  thee  such  a  blow  as 
thou  shalt  never  forget." 

"Speak  softly,  Sir  Ganelon."  said  Roland.  "Men 
know  that  I  care  not  for  threats.  If  thou  art  afraid  of 
the  danger,  mayhap  the  king  will  allow  me  to  go  in  thy 
place." 

Hotter  than  before  was  Ganelon's  wrath  ;  but  he 
held  his  tongue,  and  turned  humbly  toward  the  king. 

"  My  lord,"  said  he,  "  since  you  will  that  I  bear  this 
message  to  Marsilius,  I  go.  But  I  know  too  well  the 
false-hearted  Moor  to  hope  that  I  shall  ever  return.  I 
pray  you,  care  for  my  fair  son  Baldwin,  to  whom  I  leave 
my  lands  and  all  my  fiefs.  Keep  him  wel',  for  these 
eyes  of  mine  Lhall  never  see  him  again." 

44  Thou  art  too  fearful,  and  too  tender  of  heart,"  said 
the  king,  as  he  offered  to  Ganelon  the  staff  and  the 
glove  which  messengers  were  wont  to  carry  as  signs  of 
their  office.  "  Go  now,  and  doubt  not  the  issue  of  thins 
errand." 


The  VaU  of  Thorns.  387 

Ganelon  took  the  staff ;  but  his  hand  trembled,  and 
the  glove  fell  to  the  ground. 

"An  evil  omen  is  that,"  whispered  the  peers  who 
saw  it  "  It  is  a  sign  of  no  good  fortune,  either  to  hiss 


or  to  us." 


Then  Ganelon  bade  the  king  good-by,  and  went 
his  way.  But  he  said  to  himself,  "This  is  Roland's 
doings,  and  I  shall  hate  him  all  my  life  long :  neither 
shall  I  love  Oliver  his  brother,  nor  any  other  of  the 
twelve  peers." 

When  he  reached  Saragossa,  Ganelon  was  led  into 
the  presence  of  Marsilius.  The  Moorish  king  sat  under 
a  pine- tree,  and  twenty  thousand  warriors  stood  around 
him. 

"  What  answer  bring  you  from  your  liege-lord  Charle- 
magne ? "  asked  he. 

Ganelon  had  studied  well  what  he  should  say  ;  and  he 
answered,  like  one  long  used  to  cunning  guile,  "  If  thou 
wilt  be  baptized  and  become  a  Christian,  Charlemagne 
will  give  thee  the  half  of  Spain  to  hold  in  fief.  If  thou 
wilt  not  accept  this  offer,  then  he  will  besiege  thee  in 
Saragossa,  and  take  thee  prisoner;  and  he  will  send 
thee  bound  upon  the  back  of  a  sumter  horse  to  Aix,  and 
there  he  will  have  thee  put  to  death.  This  is  the  mes- 
sage which  Charlemagne  sends  thee." 

Great  was  the  inger  of  the  Moorish  king,  and  he 
raised  his  javelin  to  strike  the  messenger  dead.  But 
Ganelon,  no  whit  daunted,  set  his  back  against  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  and  drew  his  sword  part  way  from  itt 
scabbard. 


388  The  Story  of  Roland. 

"Good  sword,"  said  he,  "thou  art  fair  and  bright, 
and  thou  hast  done  me  many  a  service.  Never  shall  it 
be  said  that  Ganelon  died  alone  in  a  strange  land" 

But  the  courtiers  of  King  Marsilius  stepped  in  be- 
tween them.     "It  were  better,"  said  they,   "to  treat 
with  this  man  than  to  slay  him.     If  his  face  slander 
him  not,  he  is  a  man  who  may  be  persuaded  to  help  us 
Try  him." 

Then  Marsilius  called  Ganelon  to  his  side,  and  offered 
him  five  hundred  pounds  of  gold  for  his  friendship. 
And  the  two  sat  long  together,  and  plotted  bloodshed 
and  treason. 

"Indeed,  what  think  you  of  this  Charlemagne?' 
asked  the  Moor.  "Through  how  many  lands  has  he 
carried  that  old  body  of  his?  How  many  scars  are 
there  on  his  shield?  How  many  kingdoms  has  he 
stolen,  and  how  many  kings  impoverished  ?  Methinks 
that  his  days  are  well-nigh  spent.  He  must  be  more 
than  two  hundred  years  old." 

But  Ganelon,  although  a  traitor,  would  say  naught 
against  the  king.  "  None  can  see  him,"  said  he,  "  but 
will  say  that  he  is  a  man.  None  can  so  praise  or  honor 
him,  but  that  there  shall  yet  be  in  him  more  worth  and 
goodness." 

"Yet,  methinks,"  said  the  Moor,  "that  he  is  very  old. 
His  beard  is  white ;  his  hair  is  flowered  It  is  strange 
that  he  grows  not  tired  of  fighting." 

"  That  he  will  never  do  so  long  as  Roland,  his  neph- 
lives,"  answered  Ganelon.     "  There,  too,  is  Oliver ; 


The  VaU  of  Thorns.  389 

and  there  are  the  other  peers  ef  the  realm,  all  of  whom 
the  king  holds  most  dear.  They  alone  are  worth 
twenty  thousand  men." 

"I  have  heard  much  of  Roland,"  said  the  Moor;  "and 
I  would  fain  put  him  out  of  the  way.  Tell  me  how  it 
can  be  done,  and  thou  shalt  have  three  baggage  horse- 
loads  of  gold,  three  of  silver,  and  three  of  fine  silk  and 
red  wine  and  jewels." 

Now  Ganelon  desired,  above  all  things,  the  death  of 
Roland ;  and  he  eagerly  made  known  his  plans  to  Mar- 
silius. 

"  Send  to  Charlemagne,"  said  he,  "  great  store  of  rich 
gifts,  so  that  every  Frenchman  shall  wonder  at  your 
wealth.  Send  also  hostages,  and  promise  him  that  on 
next  Michaelmas  you  will  be  baptized  at  Aix  and  do 
him  homage  for  Spain.  Pleased  with  your  promises, 
he  will  return  to  sweet  France.  But  his  rearguard, 
with  Roland  and  Oliver,  and  twenty  thousand  French- 
men, will  be  long  among  the  passes  of  the  Pyrenees. 
A  hundred  thousand  Moors  could  well  cope  with  them 
there." 

Then  the  two  traitors  exchanged  promises  and 
pledges ;  and  Ganelon,  taking  with  him  the  keys  of 
Saragossa,  and  rich  presents  for  Charlemagne,  went 
back  to  Cordova. 

Right  glad  was  Charlemagne  to  hear  the  message 
which  the  lying  traitor  brought.  He  was  tired  of  war- 
ring, and  he  longed  to  return  in  peace  to  his  own  sweet 
France.  The  next  day  the  trumpets  sounded  through- 


The  Story  of  Roland. 


out  the  camp.  The  tents  were  struck  ;  the  baggage  WM 
packed  on  the  sumter  horses  ;  the  knights  mounted 
their  steeds  ;  banners  and  pennons  waved  thick  in  the 
air;  the  great  army  began  its  glad  march  homeward. 
Joyful  was  the  beginning  of  that  march  ;  but,  ah,  how 
sad  the  ending!  The  French  did  not  see  the  crafty 
Moors  following  them  through  the  upper  valleys,  theit 
banners  furled,  their  helmets  closed,  their  lances  in  rest 

That  first  night  the  king  was  troubled  with  sad 
dreams.  He  thought  that  Ganeion  seized  his  lance 
and  shook  it,  and  that  it  fell  in  pieces.  He  thought 
that  he  hunted  in  the  forest  of  Ardennes,  and  that  both 
a  boar  and  a  leopard  attacked  him.  A  thousand  fearful 
fancies  vexed  him.  Mountains  fell  upon  him  and 
crushed  him  ;  the  earth  yawned  and  swallowed  him  ; 
perils  beset  him  on  every  side  :  but  amid  them  all,  the 
face  of  Ganeion  was  ever  to  be  seen. 

By  and  by  the  army  came  to  the  Pyrenees,  and  the 
great  land  of  France  lay  just  beyond  the  mountains, 

"To  whom  now/*  said  the  king  to  his  peers,  "shall 
we  intrust  our  rearguard  while  we  pass  safely  through 
the  mountain  gates  ?  ' 

"Give  it  to  Roland,  your  nephew,"  said  Ganeion 
*  There  is  none  more  worthy  than  he." 

"  And  who  shall  lead  the  vanguard  ?  " 

"Ogier,  the  Dane.  Next  to  Roland,  he  is  the  bravest 
of  your  barons/' 

Right  willingly  did  Roland  accept  the  dangerous 
trust 


The  Vale  of  Thorns*  391 

*  I  will  sec  to  it,"  said  he,  "  that  no  harm  come  to 
the  French  while  passing  through  the  gates.  Neither 
pack-horse,  nor  mule,  nor  palfrey,  nor  charger,  nor  man 
shall  we  lose,  that  shall  not  be  paid  for  by  the  blood  oi 
•ur  foes." 

Then  he  mounted  his  steed,  and  rode  back  to  th« 
rear.  And  with  him  went  Oliver  and  Gerin  and  Gerer 
and  Josse  and  Berenger  and  Jastor  and  Anseis,  and 
Duke  Gaifer,  and  proud  Gerard  of  Rousillon,  and  Tur- 
pin  the  archbishop,  and  twenty  thousand  valiant  nght- 
ing-men. 

High  were  the  mountains,  and  gloomy  the  valleys ; 
dark  were  the  rocks,  and  fearful  were  the  glens.  But 
the  day  was  fair,  and  the  sky  was  clear ;  and  the  bright 
shields  of  the  warriors  glittered  in  the  sunlight  like 
flashes  of  fire.  All  at  once  a  sound,  as  of  a  thousand 
trumpets  blowing,  was  heard  in  the  valley  below  them. 
The  French  knights  hearkened. 

"  Comrades,"  said  Oliver,  "  methinks  that  we  are  fol- 
lowed by  the  Moors.** 

44  And  may  God  grant  us  battle  and  victory  I '  said 
Roland  earnestly.  "Well  is  it  that  we  are  here  to 
iefend  the  king.  For  one  should  never  murmur  that 
He  suffers  distress  for  his  friends  :  for  them,  he  should 
lose,  if  need  be,  both  blood  and  flesh  and  even  life  it- 
sell" 

Then  Oliver  climbed  a  high  pine  tree,  and  looked 
down  into  the  grassy  valley  behind  them.  There  h« 
beheld  such  troop*  of  Pagan  folk  as  he  had  never  sees 


392  The  Story  of  Roland, 

*  Comrades/'  cried  he,  "  we  shall  have  such  a  battle 
as  no  man  has  known.  The  passes  are  full  of  armed 
Moors :  their  hauberks  and  glittering  helmets  fill  the 
lower  valleys.  Great  mischief  is  in  store  for  us,  but 
may  we  stand  to  the  field  like  men  ! ' 

"  Shame  be  to  him  that  flees ! '"  said  the  warriors  who 
heard  him. 

Bewildered  and  amazed  at  sight  of  so  terrible  an 
array  of  Pagans,  Oliver  descended  from  the  tree, 

"Brother  Roland,"  said  he,  "I  pray  thee  blow  thy 
horn.  The  king  will  hear  it,  and  he  will  turn  him 
about  and  come  to  our  succor." 

"To  do  so  would  be  to  act  as  a  craven,"  answered 
Roland.  "  Never  shall  it  be  said  that  I  feared  a  foe,  I 
will  strike  strong  strokes  with  Durandal.  Ill  shall  it 
fare  with  the  Pagan  traitors." 

"Comrade  Roland,"  again  said  Oliver,  "now  blow 
thy  horn.  Charlemagne  will  hear  it,  and  he  will  make 
his  host  return." 

"Never,"  answered  Roland,  "shall  my  kinsmen  up- 
braid me,  or  be  blamed  by  me.  But  I  will  strike  with 
Durandal.  The  brand  which  the  king  gave  me  when 
he  knighted  me,  that  shall  be  our  succor." 

Then  Oliver  prayed  him  the  third  time,  "Comrade 
Roland,  sound  now  thine  ivory  horn.  Charlemagne, 
who  is  passing  the  gates,  will  hear  us  and  come  to  our 
aid." 

"  No  man  shall  ever  say,"  answered  Roland,  "  that  I 
have  blown  my  horn  for  Pagans.  My  kinsmen  shaD 


The  Vale  of  Thorns.  393 

aot  bear  that  reproach.  But  when  the  great  battle  if 
joined,  then  you  shall  see  the  lightning  flashes  of  Du- 
randal  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight.  A  thousand  and 
seven  hundred  times  shall  the  blade  be  dyed  in  the 
blood  of  the  Moors.  Better  would  it  be  to  perish  than 
suffer  shame." 

But  Oliver  was  not  yet  satisfied.  "  I  have  seen  the 
Moorish  host,"  said  he.  "The  mountains  and  the 
plains,  the  valleys  and  the  groves,  are  full  of  them. 
Never  have  we  fought  against  such  great  odds." 

"Friend  and  brother,"  answered  Roland,  "say  not 
another  word.  The  king  has  left  us  here,  with  a  rear- 
guard of  twenty  thousand  men,  and  he  esteems  every 
one  of  us  a  hero.  Do  thou  strike  with  thy  lance  and 
thy  good  blade  Haultclear.  As  for  me,  Durandal  shall 
serve  me  well.  And,  if  I  die,  men  shall  say,  'This 
sword  belonged  to  a  noble  knight* 

Then  the  good  Archbishop  Turpin  rode  down  the 
ranks,  holding  a  sword  in  one  hand  and  a  crucifix  in 
the  other.  "Comrades,"  cried  he,  "the  king  has  left 
as  here.  He  trusts  in  us,  and  for  him  we  shall  die. 
Cry  now  your  sins  to  Heaven.  Pray  God's  mercy,  and 
ask  his  blessing." 

In  a  moment  every  knight  among  those  twenty 
thousand  horsemen  had  dismounted.  Humbly  and  rev- 
erently every  knee  was  bent,  and  every  head  was  bowed. 
And  the  good  archbishop  blessed  the  company  in  God's 
name. 

"If  ye  die,"  said  he,  "ye  shall  have  places  in  para 
iise." 


$94  ^**  Story  of  Roland. 

^ «l^«M»0«Bi^«««lfc  ll*»«^ ••• «r«B  i    r  _-i     ii  j  .  -  MIMMBVMMMC  !•••••  !••!  BMeMMBHaKIVt 

Then  the  warriors  arose,  light-hearted  and  hopefuL 
They  rode  into  the  place  which  is  called  Roncevaux, 
the  Vale  of  Thorns,  and  there  they  put  themselves  in 
battle-array,  and  waited  the  onset  of  their  foes.  Ro 
land  sat  astride  of  his  good  war  steed,  and  proudly 
faced  the  Moorish  host.  In  his  hand  he  held  the  bared 
blade  Durandal,  pointing  toward  heaven.  Never  was 
seen  a  more  comely  knight  Courteously  he  spoke  to 
the  warriors  about  him.  Then,  putting  spurs  to  his 
steed,  he  cried,  — 

"  Comrades,  ride  onward  !    The  day  shall  be  ours  /" 

"Forget  not  the  war  cry  of  Charlemagne,"  said 
Oliver. 

At  these  words  the  rocks  and  valleys  rang  with  the 
cry,  "Monjoie!  Monjoie!"1  And  every  warrior  dashed 
forward  to  meet  the  foe. 

Long  and  fierce  was  the  fight,  and  terrible  was  the 
slaughter.  With  heart  and  strength  the  French  knights 
struck.  The  Moors  were  slain  by  hundreds  and  by 
thousands.  For  a  time  victory  seemed  to  be  with  the 
French.  Many  and  valiant  were  the  deeds  achieved 
by  Roland  and  Oliver  and  the  archbishop  and  the  peers 
that  were  with  them.  But  at  length  Marsilius  came 
down  upon  them  with  a  fresh  troop  of  seven  thousand 
Moors.  They  hemmed  the  French  heroes  in  on  every 
side.  Roland  saw  his  knights  falling  one  by  one 
around  him.  All  were  slain  save  sixty  men. 

**  Oliver,  nsy  fair  dear  comrade,"  said  he,  **  behold 

»  Sae  K*te  i«  at  tfc«  e»4  ef  this  v«hnftft. 


The  Vale  of  Thorns.  395 

how  many  brave  vassals  have  fallen  !  The  battle  goes 
hard  with  us.  If,  now,  we  only  knew  how  to  send  news 
to  Charlemagne,  he  would  return  and  succor  us." 

"It  is  too  late,"  answered  Oliver.  "Better  would 
we  die  than  suffer  shame." 

Then  said  Roland,  "  I  will  sound  my  ivory  horn. 
Mayhap  Charlemagne,  who  is  passing  the  gates  of 
Spain,  will  hear  it  and  return." 

"Do  no  such  thing,"  answered  Oliver.  "Great 
shame  would  be  upon  you  and  your  kinsmen  forever. 
You  would  not  blow  your  horn  when  I  advised  it,  and 
now  you  shall  not  do  so  because  the  day  is  lost" 

Then  the  archbishop  rode  up,  and  said,  "  The  day  is 
indeed  lost,  and  to  blow  the  horn  would  now  no  more 
avail  us.  But,  should  the  king  hear  it,  he  will  come 
back  through  the  passes.  He  will  find  us  dead:  his 
men  will  lift  us  in  biers  and  carry  us  home  to  be  buried 
in  minsters,  and  we  shall  not  be  left  as  food  for  wolves 
and  dogs," 

"Thou  sayest  well,"  said  Roland  And  he  placed 
the  horn  to  his  lips.  High  were  the  hiliss  deep  and 
dark  were  the  gorges,  narrow  were  the  ways  among  the 
mountains.  Yet  the  sound  of  that  horn  was  heard  for 
thirty  leagues.  Charlemagne  and  Duke  Naraon  heard 
it  while  yet  they  were  between  the  gates. 

44  Hark  I"  said  the  king.  "I  hear  Roland's  horn. 
The  felon  Moors  have  attacked  him :  he  is  hard  pressed 
in  battle." 

44  You  are  foolishly  mistaken,**  said  Gaselon.    "There 


396  The  Story  of  Roland. 

is  no  battle.  You  are  old,  your  beard  is  white,  your 
head  is  flowery,  you  are  growing  childish.  You  love 
your  silly  nephew,  Roland,  too  well  He  is  only  hunt- 
ing among  the  mountains.  He  would  blow  his  horn  all 
day  for  a  single  hare,  and  then  he  would  boast  before 
you  of  his  valor.  Ride  on.  Your  own  France  is  not 
far  ahead." 

But  the  king  was  not  to  be  deceived.  He  ordered 
Ganelon  to  be  seized  and  bound  and  given  in  charge  of 
his  cooks,  who  were  to  hold  him  a  close  prisoner.  They 
bound  him  with  a  great  chain,  and  laid  him  across  the 
back  of  a  sumter  horse ;  they  pulled  his  beard ;  they 
struck  him  with  their  fists  ;  they  beat  him  with  sticks. 
Sorry  indeed  was  the  traitor's  plight,  but  his  punish- 
ment was  just.  As  for  Charlemagne,  he  turned  and, 
with  all  his  host,  hastened  back  to  the  succor  of  Roland 
and  the  valiant  rearguard.  High  were  the  mountain 
walls,  and  darkly  did  they  overhang  the  way;  deep 
were  the  mountain  gorges ;  swift  and  strong  were  the 
torrents ;  narrow  and  steep  was  the  road.  The  trum- 
pets sounded :  anxiously  and  with  haste  the  king  and 
his  horsemen  retraced  their  steps. 

Fiercely  still  the  battle  raged  in  the  fated  Vale  of 
Thorns.  One  by  one  the  French  knights  fell ;  but  for 
every  one  that  was  slain  ten  Pagans  bit  the  dust.  At 
length  Oliver  was  wounded  unto  death ;  but  still  he  sat 
on  his  horse  and  struck  valiantly  about  him  with  hia 
good  Haultclear.  His  eyes  lost  their  strength :  he  could 
aot  see.  He  met  Roland,  and  struck  him  a  blow  which 


The  Vale  of  Thorns.  397 

split  his  helmet  down  to  the  nose-piece,  but  luckily 
wounded  him  not 

"  Brother/1  said  Roland  softly  and  gently,  "  thou  hast 
not  done  this  willingly.  I  am  Roland,  he  who  has  loved 
thee  so  long  and  so  well." 

"Ah,  comrade!"  said  Oliver,  "I  hear  thee ;  but  I  can 
not  see  thee.  Pray  forgive  me  if  I  have  harmed  thee." 

"I  am  none  the  worse,"  answered  Roland;  "and  there 
is  naught  to  forgive." 

Then  the  two  brothers  bent  over  from  their  steeds, 
and  embraced  each  other;  and  amid  much  love  and 
many  hasty  words  of  farewell,  they  parted. 

And  now  all  the  French  were  slain,  save  only  Roland 
and  the  archbishop.  The  hero  was  wounded  in  a  dozen 
places :  he  felt  his  life-blood  oozing  away.  Again  he 
drew  his  ivory  horn,  and  feebly  sounded  it  He  would 
fain  know  whether  Charlemagne  were  coming.  The  king 
was  in  the  pass,  not  far  away,  and  he  heard  the  failing 
blast 

"Ah,  Roland!"  said  he,  "the  battle  goes  ill  with 
thee."  Then  he  turned  to  his  host,  and  said,  "Blow 
loud  your  trumpets,  that  the  hero  may  know  that  succor 


comes." 


At  once  sixty  thousand  bugles  were  blown  so  loudly 
that  the  valleys  and  the  caves  resounded,  and  the  rocks 
themselves  trembled.  Roland  heard  it  and  thanked 
God.  The  Pagans  heard  it  and  knew  that  it  boded  no 
good  to  them.  They  rushed  in  a  body  upon  Roland 
and  the  archbishop.  Roland's  horse  was  slain  beneath 


398  The  Story  of  Roland. 

him;  his  shield  was  split  in  twain;  his  hauberk  was 
broken.  The  archbishop  was  mortally  wounded,  and 
stretched  upon  the  ground.  Again  the  trumpets  of 
Charlemagne's  host  were  heard,  and  the  Pagans  fled  in 
great  haste  toward  Spain. 

Then  Roland  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  dying  arch- 
bishop. "Kind  friend,  so  good  and  true,"  said  he, 
M  now  the  end  has  come.  Our  comrades  whom  we  held 
so  dear  are  all  dead.  Give  me  leave  to  bring  them  and 
lay  them  in  order  by  thee,  that  we  may  all  have  thy 
blessing." 

"It  is  well,"  answered  the  good  Turpin.  "Do  as 
thou  wilt  The  field  is  thine  and  mine." 

So  Roland,  weak  and  faint,  went  all  alone  through 
that  field  of  blood,  seeking  his  friends.  He  found  Be- 
renger  and  Otho  and  Anseis  and  Samson,  and  proud 
Gerard  of  Rousillon  ;  and  one  by  one  he  brought  them 
and  laid  them  on  the  grass  before  the  archbishop. 
And  lastly  he  brought  back  Oliver,  pressed  gently 
against  his  bosom,  and  placed  him  on  a  shield  by  the 
others.  The  archbishop  wept;  and  he  lifted  up  his 
feeble  hands  and  blessed  them  :  "  Sad  has  it  been  with 
you,  comrades.  May  God,  the  glorious  King,  receive 
your  souls  in  his  paradise  I ' 

Then  Roland,  faint  with  loss  of  blood,  and  overcome 
with  grief,  swooned  and  fell  to  the  ground  The  good 
archbishop  felt  such  distress  as  he  had  never  known  be- 
fore. He  staggered  to  his  feet ;  he  took  the  ivory  horn 
in  his  hands,  and  went  to  fetch  water  from  the  brook 


The  Vale  of  Thorns.  399 

which  flows  through  the  Vale  of  Thorns.  Slowly  and 
feebly  he  tottered  onward,  but  not  far:  his  strength 
failed  and  he  fell  to  the  ground.  Soon  Roland  recov- 
ered from  his  swoon  and  looked  about  him.  On  the 
green  grass  this  side  of  the  rivulet,  he  saw  the  arch 
bishop  lying.  The  good  Turpin  was  dead. 

And  now  Roland  felt  that  he,  too,  was  nigh  death's 
door.  He  took  the  ivory  horn  in  one  hand,  and  Duran- 
dal  in  the  other,  and  went  up  a  little  hill  that  lies 
toward  Spain.  He  sat  down  beneath  a  pine  tree  where 
were  four  great  blocks  of  marble.  He  looked  at  the 
blade  Durandal.  "Ha,  Durandal,"  he  said,  "how 
bright  and  white  thou  art !  Thou  shinest  and  flamest 
against  the  sun!  Many  countries  have  I  conquered 
with  thee,  and  now  for  thee  I  have  great  grief.  Better 
would  it  be  to  destroy  thee  than  to  have  thee  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  Pagan  folk." 

With  great  effort  he  raised  himself  on  his  feet  again, 
Ten  times  he  smote  with  Durandal  the  great  rock  be- 
fore him.  But  the  sword  was  bright  and  whole  as  ever, 
while  the  rock  was  split  in  pieces.  Then  the  hero  lay 
down  upon  the  grass,  with  his  face  toward  the  foe.  He 
put  the  sword  and  the  horn  under  him.  He  stretched 
his  right  glove  toward  heaven,  and  an  unseen  hand 
came  and  took  it  away.  Dead  was  the  matchless  hero. 

N«t  long  after  this  King  Charlemagne  with  his  host 
came  to  the  death-strewn  Vale  of  Thorns.  Great  was 
the  grief  of  the  king  and  of  all  the  French,  when  they 
found  that  they  had  come  too  late  to  save  even  a  single 


400  The  Story  of  Roland. 

life.  Roland  was  found  lying  on  the  grass,  his  fact 
turned  toward  Spain.  Charlemagne  took  him  up  ten- 
derly in  his  arms,  and  wept. 

"Friend  Roland,"  said  he,  "worthiest  of  men,  bravest 
of  warriors,  noblest  of  all  my  knights,  what  shall  I  say 
when  they  in  France  shall  ask  news  of  thee  ?  I  shall 
tell  them  that  thou  art  dead  in  Spain.  With  great  sor- 
row shall  I  hold  my  realm  from  this  time  on.  Every 
day  I  shall  weep  and  bewail  thee,  and  wish  that  my  life, 
too,  were  ended." 

Then  the  French  buried  their  dead  on  the  field  where 
they  had  fallen.  But  the  king  brought  Roland  and 
Oliver  and  the  archbishop  to  Blaye  in  France,  and  laid 
them  in  white  marble  tombs ;  and  there  they  lie  until 
this  day,  in  the  beautiful  little  chapel  of  St.  Roman's. 
And  he  took  the  ivory  horn  to  Bordeaux,  and  filled  it 
with  fine  gold,  and  laid  it  on  the  altar  of  the  church  in 
that  city ;  and  there  it  is  still  seen  by  the  pious  pi!« 
grims  who  visit  that  place.1 

1  Saa  N*4e  a*  at  fee  art  cf  Ms 


THE    AFTER    WORD. 


SUCH  is  the  story  of  Roland  as  gathered  from  the 
songs  and  poems  of  the  middle  ages. 

When  Charlemagne  returned,  sad,  and  worn  with 
many  cares,  to  his  own  chosen  home  at  Air,  a  fair 
damsel  met  him  on  the  threshold  of  his  palace.  It  was 
Alda,  Oliver's  sister,  the  betrothed  wife  of  Roland. 

"Where  now  is  Roland  the  hero,  the  worthiest  of 
the  barons  of  France  ? '  asked  she. 

Scarcely  could  the  king  make  answer,  so  great  was 
the  sorrow  which  lay  at  his  heart  "  Sister,  fair  friend," 
said  he  gently,  "  that  noble  knight  whom  we  both  loved 
so  well  can  nevermore  come  to  thee,  nor  will  his  strong 
arm  ever  again  defend  us." 

Faded  then  the  color  from  the  faithful  maiden's 
cheeks.  She  cried  not,  nor  uttered  a  sound  She  tot 
tered,  and  fell  on  the  stone  pavement  at  Charlemagne's 
feet  God  is  kind :  he  takes  the  broken-hearted  home, 
The  maidens  in  the  palace  raised  her  up  tenderly,  and 
bore  her  into  the  quiet  little  chapel,  where  they 
watched  over  her  body,  and  prayed  for  her  soul,  until 


i  H 


402  The  After   Word. 

the  break  of  day ;  and  then,  with  many  sad  tears  and 
bitter  lamentations,  they  buried  her  close  by  the  altar 
and  full  great  honor  did  the  king  pay  to  her.1 

As  for  Ganelon  the  traitor,  he  was  brought  before  the 
council  of  peers,  loaded  with  irons  and  chained  like  a 
felon.  "  Lord  barons,"  said  the  king,  "  here  is  Ganelon, 
whom  I  pray  you  will  judge  as  beseemeth  you  just. 
He  has  traitorously  taken  from  me  twenty  thousand 
of  my  host,  and  my  nephew  whom  ye  shall  never  see, 
and  Oliver  the  brave  and  the  courteous ;  and  he  has 
betrayed  the  twelve  peers  for  gold." 

And  the  song  goes  on  to  tell,  how,  through  the  advice 
of  Thierry  of  Anjou,  Ganelon  was  sentenced  to  be  torn 
in  pieces  by  horses,  — a  just  punishment  for  one  so  base 
and  vile.  But  Charlemagne's  heart  was  overburdened 
with  sorrow  and  care ;  and  naught  could  bring  again 
the  hopefm  days  of  the  past  "  O  God ! "  said  he  in 
despair,  "  so  painful  is  my  life ! '  And  he  wept  with  hie 
eyes,  and  pulled  his  snow-white  beard. 

Here  ends  the  song  which  Turold  sang.  But  another 
poem  *  tells  us,  that,  not  long  after  this,  the  great  king 
died,  and  that  at  the  moment  of  his  death  all  the  bells 
in  the  kingdom  tolled,  of  their  own  accord,  a  solemn 
dirge.  He  was  buried  in  Aix-la-Chapelle,  in  a  tomb* 
which,  according  to  one  account,*  was  very  rich  ami 

'-  S«e  Note  si  at  the  end  of  tfcia  volume. 
*  Cotorameme&t  de  Lewis.  •  Cr&dea  General  de 


The  After  Word.  403 

well  made.  And  on  this  tomb  were  painted  all  the 
battles  which  he  had  fought  and  won.  But  on  that  side 
which  faced  toward  the  Pyrenees  Mountains,  where  he 
had  been  outwitted  and  defeated  by  the  Moors,  there 
was  not  any  thing  painted  ;  for  he  had  not  yet  avenged 
himself  for  the  latest  injuries  which  he  had  there  received 
As  for  Ogier  the  Dane,  it  is  related  by  one  of  the 
older  song-writers,  from  whom  I  have  already  borrowed 
much,  that  he  lived  a  long  time  in  Hainault  and  Bra- 
bant, doing  good,  and  hating  evil,  and  protecting  the 
poor  and  friendless.  Wherever  he  went,  the  people 
called  down  Heaven's  choicest  blessings  upon  him ;  and 
when  he  died,  full  of  years  and  honors,  he  was  buried 
in  the  abbey  at  Meaux.  But  another  and  later  poem 
tells  us  a  very  different  story.  It  relates,  that,  before 
the  death  of  Charlemagne,  Ogier,  with  a  thousand 
French  knights,  and  assisted  by  his  brother  Guyon  of 
Denmark,  led  a  crusade  into  the  Holy  Land.  On  every 
hand  the  Saracens  were  subdued,  and  at  length  Ogier 
was  crowned  King  of  Judaea.  But  not  long  did  he  enjoy 
his  kingdom.  He  was  ill  at  ease  and  unhappy,  so  far 
from  the  court  of  Charlemagne,  and  he  determined  to 
return  to  France.  One  night  he  embarked  secretly, 
and  sailed  across  the  sea.  The  sky  was  clear,  the  wind 
was  fair,  and  the  vessel  sped  swiftly  onward,  but  not  in 
tbs  way  which  its  master  desired.  A  mountain  of  mag 
iron  drew  it  toward  an  unknown  shore,  where  it 


404  Tke  After 


was  dasbed  to  pieces  upon  the  rocks.  With  difficulty 
Ogier  e«aped  from  the  wreck.  The  country  in  which 
he  found  himself  was  a  strange  land*  not  like  any  he 
had  ever  before  seen.  While  he  stood,  uncertain  which 
way  to  go,  a  beautiful  horse,  stronger  and  fairer  even 
than  Broiefort,  came  across  the  sands,  and  knelt  before 
him,  as  if  asking  him  to  mount.  Nothing  fearing,  Ogier 
leaped  upon  his  back.  With  a  neigh  of  delight,  the 
horse,  who  was  none  other  than  Papillon,  the  fairy- 
steed  of  Morgan  the  Fay,  bounded  forward.  Over 
rocks  and  hills,  through  forests,  and  among  steep 
precipices,  he  ran  with  lightning  speed,  and  paused 
not  until  he  arrived  at  a  wondrous  palace  built  in  the 
midst  of  a  most  beautiful  landscape.  There  were  gar- 
dens and  orchards  and  lakes  and  waterfalls  and  foun 
tains  and  every  thing  that  could  charm  the  senses  of 
the  hero.  It  was  the  island  Vale  of  Avalon  — 

"  Where  falls  not  hail,  or  rain,  or  any  snow, 
Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly;  but  it  lies 
Deep-meadowed,  happy,  fair  with  orchard  lawns, 
And  bowery  hollows  crowned  with  summer  sea." 

There  he  was  kindly  welcomed  by  Morgan  the  Fay, 
the  queen  of  that  land.  A  crown  of  roses  was  placed 
upon  his  head,  and  he  lost  all  remembrance  of  his? 
former  life.  There,  through  long  years  of  happiness, 
he  had  the  companionship  of  King  Arthur  and  his 


The  After   Word,  405 

knights,  and  of  all  the  great  heroes  that  have  ever 
lived  on  earth ;  and  he  was  freed  from  death  and  every 
mortal  care.  But  once  on  a  time  he  bethought  him 
that  he  would  return  to  France  and  visit  his  friend 
Charlemagne  again.  The  fairy  queen  consented,  and 
the  sea-goblins  carried  him  back.  But  every  thing  wa* 
changed.  Paris  was  no  longer  the  city  he  had  once 
known.  He  made  his  way  to  the  palace,  and  inquired 
for  Charlemagne.  Men  laughed  at  him,  and  told  him 
that  Charlemagne  had  been  dead  two  hundred  years, 
and  that  Hugues  Capet  was  king  of  France.  The  good 
Dane  felt  now  that  the  world  had  no  joys  for  him  ; 
and  not  long  afterward  he  was  carried  back  again  to 
the  sweet  Vale  of  Avaion,  where  he  still  lives  with  the 
blissful  company  of  heroes. 

And  in  various  countries  of  Europe  men  tell  marvel- 
lous tales  of  the  re-appearance  of  Charlemagne.  It  was 
said  by  some  that  the  great  king  returned  to  life  at  the 
time  of  the  Crusades,  and,  with  the  same  martial  vigor 
as  of  old,  led  his  hosts  to  mortal  combat  with  the 
Saracens.  Some  say  that  he  has  been  seen  in  the 
mountains  of  Untersberg,  in  company  with  Frederick 
Barbarossa,  waiting  for  the  time  when  he  shall  return 
to  his  kingdom.  Others  believe,  that  in  Desenberg  he 
bides  the  coming  of  the  millennial  day.  A  German 
poet1  says,  "Charlemagne  the  great  king  lives  still 

1  Oebecke,  in  Karl  Simrock's  Kerlingisches  Heldenbuch. 


406  The  After  Word. 

with  his  heroes.  It  is  in  Desenberg  that  he  rests  from 
his  conquests.  The  mountain  dwarfs  guard  his  dwell- 
ing. There,  in  the  broad  halls,  the  heroes  repose,  over 
powered  with  sleep,  bound  by  an  unseen  hand.  Around 
them  are  their  glittering  arms,  ready  to  be  donned  for 
the  battle.  They  breathe  softly;  they  dream  of  war 
and  victory.  And  at  a  marble  table  in  the  middle  of 
the  hall  Charlemagne  sits :  his  head  reclines  upon  his 
breast ;  his  countenance  beams  with  the  fire  of  youth  ; 
his  hair  and  beard  fall  in  long  white  waves  to  the 
ground.  Long  time  has  he  waited  there  with  his  com- 
rades. Oftentimes  the  dawning  of  their  new  life 
seems  at  hand,  and  a  hum  of  joy  runs  through  the 
halls.  Then  all  the  warriors  rise  to  their  feet:  they 
seize  their  lances  and  their  swords  ;  but  suddenly  their 
joy  is  quenched,  and  again  their  eyes  are  closed  in 
slumber.  Only  the  king  remains  awake  for  a  while; 
and  he  cries  out,  until  the  sound  is  echoed  through 
the  mountains,  'Ye  dwarfs  who  guard  my  dwelling, 
what  year  is  this?'  The  dwarfs  answer;  and  the 
shadows  settle  again  upon  his  features.  'Sleep  on, 
comrades/  he  says,  'the  hour  has  not  yet  come/  With 
a  dull  sound,  each  warrior  falls  prone  upon  the  earth : 
they  sleep,  and  await  the  hour  when  the  spell  shall  be 
broken.  The  king,  with  his  long  white  beard,  and  hia 
flowing  hair,  and  his  countenance  glowing  with  youtb 
iita  again  at  the  marble  table." 

CENTRAL  CIRCULATION 

CHILDREN'S    ROOM 


NOTE 


Norz  I.    Page  8. 

"THEN  they  saw  Karl  himself,  the  Iron  King,  crested  witb 

helmet,  his  arms  protected  with  iron  bracelets,  an  iron  hao- 
berk  sheltering  his  iron  chest  and  his  huge  shoulders,  in  his  left 
hand  a  lance  of  iron  lifted  upright,  for  his  right  hand  was  always 
stretched  toward  his  unconquered  sword.  His  knees  even,  which 
are  generally  left  bare  of  mail,  were  covered  with  plates  of  iron. 
What  shall  I  say  of  his  leggings,  which,  with  the  whole  army,  were 
wont  to  be  of  iron?  In  his  shield  there  was  naught  but  iron;  and 
even  his  horse,  in  color  and  spirit,  was  of  iron.  All  those  who 
went  before  him,  all  who  marched  by  his  side,  all  who  followed 
him,  imitated  his  costume  as  far  as  possible.  Iron  filled  the  fields 
and  the  streets ;  the  sun's  rays  fell  upon  naught  but  iron :  so  that 
the  people  of  Pavia,  more  glact  by  terror  than  by  the  iron  itself, 
fell  down  before  the  glact  iron.  '  O  iron  1  Alas,  iron !  *  such  was 
the  confused  clamor  which  filled  the  city.  Otker  saw  all  these 
wonders  at  a  glance,  and  said  to  Desier, '  Behold  that  which  tho« 
kast  so  m-ich  wished  to  see ! '  And  he  fell  down  almost  lifeless." 
—  From  Des  GesUs  4e  Charlemagne,  written  by  a  monk  of  St.  Gall, 
about  the  end  of  the  ninth  century.  Quoted  by  J.  J.  Ampere,  ia 
his  Histeire  L&tttr*ire  de  la  France  av&nt  le  xii***  SticU. 

NOTE  2«    Page  30, 

TKX  legend  of  Milon  and  the  Princess  Bertha  and  of  the  boy- 
of  Roland  is  probably  of  Italian  origin.    It  is  related  is.  ft 


4oS  Notes. 

very  old  collection  of  romances,  entitled  Re*li  Jtt  Frmnci^  and  in  a 
little  poem  of  the  sixteenth  century,  called  Innameramtnte  di  Mi- 
Une  JAnglantt.  It  is  the  subject,  also,  of  two  Spanish  romances 
ef  the  sixteenth  century.  Another  story  of  Roland's  parentage 
and  boyhood,  very  different  in  all  its  essentials,  is  given  in  aa 
sld  French  metrical  romance  of  Charlemagne,  written  by  Girard 
d'  Amiens,  The  scene  between  Roland  and  Charlemagne  at  the 
banquet  table,  as  related  in  this  chapter,  is  adapted  from  a  poem 
by  Uhiaad,  in  Karl  Simrock's  Kerlingisches  Heldenbuch* 

NOTE  3.    Page  32. 

TMB  story  of  Charlemagne's  entry  into  Rome  is  probably 
authentic.  It  is  given  here  nearly  as  related  by  Eginhard.  in  his 
Vit*  Cartli  Magni.  —  Se*  GUIZOT'S  History  ef  Fr*nct,  L  222,  and 
JAMES'S  Hi$t*ry  9f  Ch&rUmmgne>  1  50, 


NOTR  4.    Page  41. 

CHARLEMAGNE'S  wars  with  the  Saxons  are  subjects  of  history 
rather  than  of  legend.  I  have  given  this  brief  account  of  one  of 
his  campaigns  across  the  Rhine,  in  order  to  acquaint  you  with  one 
of  the  most  romantic  episodes  in  the  real  history  of  the  great 
emperor.  "  We  cannot  be  surprised,"  says  Ludlow,  "  that  French 
legend  should  have  fastened  upon  the  personage  of  Charlemagne, 
It  is  difficult  to  read  without  wonder  the  bare  enumeration  of  hit 
achievements,  —  how  by  him  or  by  his  lieutenants,  the  Frankisfe 
sway  was  carried  to  the  Weser,  the  Elbe,  and  the  Oder,  the  Danube, 
the  Adige,  the  Po,  and  the  Ebro  ;  how  the  Irminsul  was  thrown 
down  in  German  forests  ;  how  the  Pope  crowned  him,  and  the  Emirs 
of  Spain  became  his  vassals,  and  the  distant  Khalifs  assured  him 
of  their  friendship.'5 

The  idol  Irminsui  was  probably  a  statue,  raised,  originally  in 
honor  of  Arminius,  near  the  spot  where  he  defeated  the  Roman 
legions  under  Germanicus,  in  A.D.  15.  It  was  long  regarded  by 


Notes.  409 

the  Germans  with  religious  veneration.  "  The  Temple  of  Irminsul 
was  spacious,  elaborate,  and  magnificent  The  image  was  raised 
open  a  marble  column.  ...  Its  right  hand  held  a  banner,  in  which 
a  red  rose  was  conspicuous  :  its  left  presented  a  balance.  The 
crest  of  its  helmet  was  a  cock.  On  its  breast  was  engraven  a  bear  ; 
tad  the  shield  depending  from  its  shoulders  exhibited  a  lion  in  a 
field  full  of  flowers."  —  SHARON  TURNER'S  History  of  the  Angle* 
&ur«*j,  i.  224. 

NOTE  5.    Page  46. 

THE  story  of  the  Knight  of  the  Swan  was  a  very  popular  Jtegend, 
and  was  related  with  many  variations  of  incident,  time,  and  place. 
Its  hero  is  designated  variously  as  Lohengrin,  Elias  Grail,  Gerard 
Swan,  Helias,  and  Salvius  Brabo.  Of  all  these  versions,  that  of 
Lohengrin  is  by  far  the  most  beautiful.  —  See  BARING-GOULD'S 
Myths  of  the  Middle  Age*. 


NOTE  6.    Page  57. 

IT  is  worthy  of  note,  that  the  children  of  Charlemagne  men- 
tioned in  the  legends  are  quite  different  in  name  and  character 
from  those  known  in  history,  In  the  legends  we  read  of  Chariot, 
Louis,  Lothaire,  Gobart,  Belissent,  and  Emma  :  in  history  we  have 
recorded  the  names  of  Pepin,  Charles,  Rotruda,  Adelais,  Bertha 
Carloman,  Louis,  Gisla,  Hildegarde,  Theoderada,  Hiltruda,  and 
Rothaida.  Only  one,  Louis,  belongs  to  both  legend  and  history. 

The  names  of  the  twelve  peers  vary  constantly  in  the  different 
romances.  In  the  Chanson  de  Roland,  they  are  Roland,  Oliver, 
Gerin,  Gerer,  Josse,  Berenger,  Jastor,  Anseis,  Gerard,  Gaifer,  and 
Turpin.  In  Fierabras,  they  are  Roland,  Oliver,  Thierry,  Geoffrey 
or  Godfrey,  Namon,  Ogier,  Richard,  Berard,  Gillimer,  Aubri,  Basin, 
and  Guy  of  Bourgogne. 

NOTE  7.    Page  8a 

OGIER  the  Dane  was  probably  a  real  historical  personage,  yet 
we  know  almost  nothing  of  the  true  story  of  his  life  and  exploits- 


He  is  mentioned  by  the  Monk  of  St  Gall  under  the  name  of  Otker; 
and  the  author  of  the  so-called  Chronicle  of  Turpin,  after  alluding 
to  his  heroism  in  the  wars  of  Charlemagne,  says,  "  Even  unto  this 
day,  men  sing  of  the  warrior  who  accomplished  so  many  wonders." 
There  are  but  few  of  the  French  romances  in  which  the  name  ot 
Ogier  does  not  occur.  His  earlier  life  is  the  subject  of  a  very  old 
poem,  entitled  Les  Enfances  d^QgUr,  the  date  of  whose  composi- 
tion is  unknown.  The  story  of  his  exploits  in  Italy,  and  of  his  later 
difficulties  with  Charlemagne,  as  related  in  the  present  volume,  has 
been  derived  mainly  from  a  long  poem  written  by  one  Raimbert, 
a  minstrel  of  the  twelfth  century.  —  Set  GASTON  PARIS,  Histtir* 
Pottique  tie  Charlemagne,  p.  307.  The  later  poets,  in  dealing  with 
romances  of  Ogier,  have  added  many  fanciful  and  extravagant 
details  not  found  in  the  earlier  versions. 

NOTE  8.    Page  103. 

I  HAVE  introduced  this  episode  in  order  to  acquaint  you  with 
another  French  epic,  The  Song  of  the  Lorrainers  (Le  Roman  de* 
Loherains).  The  story  of  Bego,  a  part  of  which  is  given  here, 
forms  the  third  and  finest  division  of  the  great  poem,  and  was 
written  by  Jehan  de  Flagy,  a  minstrel  of  the  twelfth  century. 
"  Les  Loherains  is  in  spirit  rather  a  Teutonic  than  a  French  epic. 
It  was  written,  doubtless,  by  Germans  who  had  adopted  the  French 
nationality,  and  who  could  not  forget  that  their  ancestors  had  con- 
quered the  country  which  was  their  home.  ...  It  is  an  epic  of 
feudal  society,  and  as  such  deserves  particular  attention,  as  illus- 
trating in  a  remarkable  manner  the  institutions  and  customs  of 
feudalism."  —  HKNRI  VAN  LAUN,  History  of  French  Literature 
L  149- 

NOTE  9.    Page  132. 

THIS  story  is  mainly  derived  from  a  poem,  entitled  Girart  ik 
F&HM,  written  by  Bertrand  de  Bar-sar-Aube  in  the  thirteenth  ecn- 
tery.  la  the  original  version,  the  reconciliation  of  Roland  and 


Notes.  4?  i 

Oliver  is  effected  bj  a  cloud  settling  down  between  them,  and  as 
angel  bidding  them  cease  their  fighting.  Victor  Hugo  has  given  & 
modern  and  most  beautiful  version  of  this  story  in  his  Lt&nde  de& 


NOTE  10.     Page  146. 

THE  tradition  relating  the  flight  of  the  four  brothers  o&  tnc  back 
of  Bayard  is  the  origin  of  **  the  famous  signboard,  which  may  h* 
met  with  half  over  Europe,  but  is  especially  common  in  France,  of 
the  four  sons  of  Aymon  astride  on  a  long-backed  charger."  — 
LUDLOW,  Popular  Epics  of  the  Middle  Ages, 

NOTE  u.    Page  174. 

NEXT  to  the  romantic  legends  of  Roland  and  Ogier  the  Dane, 
none  are  more  popular,  or  more  widely  known,  than  those  of  Rei- 
nold.  In  France  there  have  been  several  versions  of  these  legends  ; 
the  best  being  contained  in  a  long  poem,  entitled  Les  Quatre  Fils 
d*Aymon,  a  modern  edition  of  which  was  published  at  Reims,  in 
1861  In  Germany  the  story  of  Reinold  and  his  brothers  is  related 
in  a  manuscript  romance  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  appears  in 
a  modernized  form  in  Die  Haimonskinder,  a  poem  published  at 
Leipzig  in  1830.  In  Spain  these  legends  were  embodied,  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  in  a  romance  called  Espejt  de  Caballerias  (The 
Mirror  of  Chivalry).  From  this  last-named  version,  Lope  de  Vega 
derived  the  materials  for  his  play  of  Pobresa  de  Reyn&ldes.  In 
De*  Quixote  there  is  a  humorous  reference  to  our  hero  as  "  Rei- 
aaldos  de  Montalvan."  "There  is  every  reason  to  believe,"  says 
Ludlow,  "  that  to  this  world-renowned  legend  we  owe  the  scenerj 
of  one  of  Shakspeare's  most  charming  masterpieces;  and  that 
Jaques  nor  Touchstone  would  ever  have  moralized  ia  Arden,  had 
not  the  story  of  the  Sons  of  Aymoe  made  of  its  forest  another 
*  Broceliande  '  of  legendary  loi  e." 


<  1 2,  Notes* 

NOTE  12.    Page  191. 

FOR  the  story  of  Roland's  adventures  it  connection  with  the 
Princess  of  Cathay,  and  of  his  exploits  in  the  Far  East  and  IB 
Fairyland,  we  are  indebted  chiefly  to  the  works  of  the  Italian  poets 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  more  especially  to  the  Orlando  /#• 
namorato  of  Boiardo.  In  order  to  harmonize  the  different  parts 
of  my  story,  and  to  adapt  it  to  my  audience,  I  have  found  it  neces- 
sary, in  this  chapter  and  those  which  follow,  to  deviate  frequently 
from  the  original  versions,  while  endeavoring  to  preserve  the 
essential  parts  of  the  narrative  unchanged. 

NOTE  13.    Page  235. 

THE  name  M  Fata  Morgana  "  is  appb'ed  to  an  optical  illusion,  01 
mirage,  frequently  seen  in  the  Strait  of  Messina.  "Objects  on  the 
Sicilian  shore  are  refracted  and  reflected  upon  the  water  in  mid- 
channel,  presenting  enlarged  and  duplicated  images.  Gigantic 
figures  of  men  and  horses  move  over  the  picture,  as  similar  images 
in  miniature  are  seen  flitting  across  the  white  sheet  of  the  camera- 
obscura*  The  wonderful  exhibition  is  of  short  duration."  The 
most  prominent  figures  in  ancient  and  modem  Italian  legends  are 
the  Fate,  fairy  beings  ruled  by  Demogorgon,  and  whose  home  is 
in  the  Himalaya  Mountains.  One  of  these,  called  Fata  Morgana, 
is  the  personification  of  Fortune.  In  the  romances  of  King  Arthur 
she  is  called  Morgan  le  Fay. 

NOTE  14.    Page  254. 

THE  narrative  of  Roland's  adventure  with  the  ore  is  given  in 
Ariosto's  Orlando  Furies*.  It  is,  of  course,  an  imitation  of  the 
old  story  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda ;  and  it  illustrates  the  manner 
in  which  the  great  Italian  poets  mingled  classical  and  Gothic  fic- 
tions, and  formed  from  them  "a  magnificent  and  fanciful  ara- 
oesque,"  in  which  the  natural  and  the  beautiful  are  found  side  by 
slide  with  the  grotesque  and  the  extravagant 


413 


NOTE  15.    Page  318. 

THK  adventures  of  Roland  with  Sir  Ferumbras,  Sir  Otuel,  and 
the  Giant  Ferragus,  are  related  in  certain  English  poems  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  an  analysis  of  which  is  given  in  Ellis's  JSarfy 
English  Metrical  Romances.  These  romances  were  doubtless  all 
derived  originally  from  older  French  versions.  They  are  not  very 
Interesting  reading  ;  and  I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  do  more 
than  merely  mention  the  exploits  which  they  relate. 

NOTE  16.    Page  348. 

THK  description  of  the  land  of  Prester  John  is  found  in  a  curious 
letter  claiming  to  have  been  written  by  Prester  John  himself  to 
Manuel  Commenus,  Emperor  of  Constantinople  about  the  year 
1165.  Similar  letters  were  sent  to  other  European  monarchs,  and 
were  turned  into  rhyme  and  sung  all  over  Europe  by  minstrels 
and  trouveres.  —  Set  BARING-GOULD'S  Curious  Myths  of  the 
Middle  Ages. 

NOTE  17.    Page  363. 

IN  this  chapter  I  have  ventured  to  give  a  somewhat  literal  ren- 
dering of  one  of  Uhland's  beautiful  and  characteristic  poems.  See 
Sim  rock's  Kerlingisches  Heldenbuck.  u  This  poem,"  says  Gaston 
Paris,  "  is  admirable  for  its  naivete"  of  expression,  and  for  its  vivid 
rendering  of  the  ancient  poetical  ideas  concerning  Charlemagne." 

NOTE  1  8.    Page  376. 

"THE  origin  of  this  tale  seems  to  lie  in  a  legend  of  the  eiegt 
af  Aqoileia  by  Attila,  quoted  by  M.  Ame'de'e  Thierry,  in  his  Histoire 
dAttila,  according  to  which  the  inhabitants  of  that  town  covered 
their  escape  to  the  lagoons  by  leaving  their  walls  manned  with 
statues  in  full  armor  in  guise  of  sentinels."  —  See  LuDiX>w's 
of  ike  Middle  Ajgu. 


414  Motes  * 

NOTK  19.     Page  394. 

THE  Karlamagw&s  Saga  relates,  that,  upon  the  occasion  of  the 
birth  of  his  son  Louis,  Charlemagne  made  a  vow  to  visit  the  holy 
sepulchre  at  Jerusalem.  He  afterward  performed  the  pilgrimage^ 
and  returned  by  way  of  Constantinople,  where  he  assisted  the  king 
of  the  Greeks  in  defending  his  country  against  the  Saracens,  The 
Greek  monarch,  in  the  excess  of  his  gratitude,  offered  to  become 
tne  vassal  of  Charlemagne ;  but  the  great  king  would  accept  only 
of  a  few  relics  by  way  of  recompense  for  his  services.  Among 
these  relics  was  the  point  of  the  spear  which  had  pierced  the  side 
of  the  Saviour;  and  this  he  had  made  into  a  sword-blade,  which 
he  called  Joyeuse.  Hence,  from  that  day,  the  battle  cry  of  those 
who  followed  his  standard  was,  "  Monjoie !  Monjoie ! " 

NOTE  20.    Page  400, 

THE  description  of  the  battle  of  Roncevaux,  which  composes  *. 
part  of  the  Chanson  de  Roland,  is,  without  doubt,  the  finest  of  all 
the  legends  which  cluster  around  the  name  of  Charlemagne.  The 
original  poem  —  doubtless  the  song  which  Taillefer  sang  at  the 
battle  of  Hastings  —  is  said  to  have  been  written,  probably  iui 
the  tenth  century,  by  a  minstrel  named  Turold.  The  story  of  this 
battle  is  also  related,  with  many  changes  of  incident,  in  the  so- 
called  Chronicle  of  Turpin.  Eginhard,  the  only  historian  of  that 
period  whose  account  can  be  considered  authentic,  says,  that,  is 
the  year  778,  the  rearguard  of  the  French  army  was  attacked  by 
the  Basques  while  in  the  upper  passes  of  the  Pyrenees,  **  There 
took  place  a  fight,  in  which  the  French  were  killed  to  a  man.  .  ,  . 
And  Roland,  prefect  of  the  marches  of  Brittany,  fell  in  this  engage- 
ment." Says  M.  Guizot,  "The  disaster  of  Roncevaux,  and  the 
heroism  of  the  warriors  who  perished  there,  became,  in  France,  the 
object  of  popular  sympathy,  and  the  favorite  topic  for  the  exercise 
d£  the  popular  fancy.  The  Song  of  Roland^  a  real  Homeric  posra 
in  its  great  beauty,  and  yet  rude  and  simple  as  became  its  aaticmaJ 


415 


character,  bears  witness  to  the  prolonged  importance  attained  la 
Europe  by  this  incident  in  the  history  of  Charlemagne." 

NOTE  21.    Page  402. 

Translation,  by  Sir  EDMUND  HEAD,  of  a  poem  in  the  L&rv  & 
,  a  collection  of  Spanish  ballads  first  published  in  i  550. 


"  In  Paris,  Lady  Alda  sits,  Sir  Roland's  destined  bride, 
With  her  three  hundred  maidens  to  tend  her  at  her  side  : 
Alike  their  robes  and  sandals  all,  and  the  braid  that  binds  their  hail  ; 
And  alike  the  meal  in  their  lady's  hall  the  whole  three  hundred  share. 
Around  her,  in  her  chair  of  state,  they  all  their  places  hold  : 
A  hundred  weave  the  web  of  silk,  and  a  hundred  spin  the  gold  ; 
And  a  hundred  touch  their  gentle  lutes  to  soothe  that  lady's  pain  : 
And  she  thinks  on  him  that's  far  away,  with  the  host  of  Charlemagne. 
Lulled  by  the  sound,  she  sleeps  ;  but  soon  she  wakens  with  a  scream  ; 
And,  as  her  maidens  gather  round,  she  thus  recounts  her  dream  : 
'  I  sat  upon  a  desert  shore,  and  from  the  mountain  s«gh, 
Right  toward  me,  I  seemed  to  see  a  gentle  falcon  fly  ; 
But  close  behind  an  eagle  swooped,  and  struck  that  falcon  down, 
And  with  talons  and  beak  he  rent  the  bird  as  he  cowered  beneath  my 
The  chief  of  her  maidens  smiled,  and  said,  '  To  me  it  dotb  aot  sc*ra 
That  the  Lady  Alda  reads  aright  the  boding  of  her  dream. 
I*hou  art  the  falcon,  and  thy  knight  is  the  eagle  in  his  pride 
As  he  comes  in  triumph  from  the  war,  and  claims  thee  as  hi*  bride,' 
The  maidens  smiled  ;  but  Alda  sighed,  siad  gravely  shook  har  head. 
1  Full  rich,  '  quoth  she,  '  shall  thy  guerdon  be,  if  thou  the  truth  hart 
•Tis  morn  i  her  letters,  stained  with  blood,  the  truth  too  plainly  toft 
Hew,  »  the  chase  cf  Roncevaux,  Sir  Roland  fought  asd  fdL" 


FUrsU 


A?  i 
*«- 


v*  YORK 


170-32 
23-04 


s. 


»   '"'1         "  "  .'  *